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Lindsay Adkins
Locks and Keys
Sometimes when he saw the moonlight
it made him forget all else
but the April leaves
awash in dew,
like emerald rings
on the hands of the trees,
jangling with the hum of the wind.
And how the darkness looked
so gravid and wet
that he could nearly slice into it,
cut himself a slit in the world
through which to disappear.
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