full moon,
insomnia
the window shades and curtains
all drawn back
to let the light soak in
I wasn't sleeping anyway,
okay night
you win.
At least
each surface of my house
not positively bathed in black
- in shadow - glows,
like spilled milk
on dark wood floors,
gleams
and
pours
in
so much silver,
this one month's moon
in one or two night's work
is paying back,
at our dream's expense,
every last debt the sun owes
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