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Eight p.m. October night. Clean

plates placed into the dark

cupboard. A reflection

in a toaster reveals

a part of you—



As when your daughter breaks

into laughter and her smile

displays a dark gap

where the tooth

once took its place.


Or when a woman reading

on a train travels so deeply

into story she forgets

the wristwatch ticking

to her pulse. As people swarm

the doors, exit the last

station, she has lost her destination.


Outside your window, above

the sidewalk, a stream of cat

eyes lights the night sky—




Originally published in Eclipse, Volume 19


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