AVERIL BONES
Watching the Sky
Watching the sky and listening
to the passing and passing of cars,
the passing of feet, and of time
in the sand on the beach,
I wonder how small I must be.
Yet the weight of my body cycles with the moon,
the colour of my hair with the sun's season.
That these things should change me is no surprise.
But do my nights of drinking worry the sun's hair grey
and slow the night moon in her orbit?
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Parts
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