J. Pratt

Her Hiding Place

A darkness wobbles the thick air,
 
The skin boots help her sleep.
 
Behind the light of a kind face,
 
Subjected to her secrecy.
 
The North—Western Pines —
 
Under a constellation’s eye.
 
Where gravity comes but once a year,
 
To the huge black space.
 
Where I am the outer slide.

(2014)

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