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Dusk

Dusk

it matters not

the day

if I remember it

or not

it matters not

the day

if I found it

or not

it matters not

the day

if I kept it

or not

it matters not

the day

the break of it

the dusk

folded flat and put away

stuffed or starved

held or withheld

standing in the rain

or cold in the grave

I sat in the sand

and waited

way too long

the sky a tearless blue

in summer

changes its color

in the winter

a different shade

in the fall

and returns itself

in the spring

a buried bulb

left in the ground

grows

each year

dimmer

through the lens

of an eye

but more brilliant

than the day

I remembered it

I found it

I kept it

when it mattered

not

the break of it

the dusk

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery