I found it in the dull
shuddering of the camera
pointed at me. I found
a pocket pulled from,
hint of space ship.
The naked spine, our
breach bodies plummeting.
Your eye watching for
it, the still back of a chair
rescinding, my open.
Moment now a single
syllable. Spots of them
on this bed and some
hovering above it,
angels picking our pockets,
and neither of us wanting
those dull pennies back.
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