Nightlife

###Nightlife

Hera's breastmilk:

coy moon and scattered stars

spill into the open sky.

The moonlight dances

on the glinted balcony floor.

The world is saner at night,

the quiet ones are talking:

pale terror dogs howl for the fallen kin,

the trees stilled (grieving).

I whisper - the cooing breeze

comes creeping and settles in my skin.

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