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A Brief History of Dusk

Joshua Marie Wilkinson

an eyelash
stuck to my face
lets out a little

fleck of blood
the light blanching bilking
a strange towards—

standing around without
our arms &

voices no oath here not
even a copper
pink dusk telephone
wires spent the
lambs vanish
& gravely frost plays

landlord to the land
rotates around us shaky
with speech refracted murmuring
off the
ivy wall somebody

somebody's stuff
to the street & it's been dark out for six
days which gives our music a yarn
to follow

& a little lead
in your
pencil broke
into the diary
page into
your entry
dogs appeared

Joshua Marie Wilkinson

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