what may fill the absent sky

amber is the evening
like a heart washed in gold
warm and wet as tongues
dancing with eager intent
while stillness rules
in expectation of
what may fill the absent sky –
some lightning
slow fork like a hand-drawn trident
pressing through a thick, resistance
or a heavy moon
white and fat and full of borrowed light
no matter
everything is pressed down
beneath the hidden weight
of an abusive, secret twilight

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