Dances before an attack
Ujjal d nihil

i

The pile inside
dances.
Thickets glow
fenced by a sad basket
of wrists

ii

From inside the basket,
wrapped fevers,
yesterdays,
neck the dance

iii

Echoes from a
button of dark.
The slow crown dances
unlearning windows and whips and skulls:
swarms of breath

iv

Out: valley.
Limbs traced
In this melting clock.
Twilight, dance,
be a cousin
in my last blind run

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