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Light's hole-puncher,

when world started shedding its scales
we were deep in its coves
didn't know it had a surface
that the front would flake off
that everything would be a meteorite
that chickadees on the breakfast slab
would spoon seesaw each other plop repeatedly
into gilt-ringed teacups

off-universe, every bridge has suicide doorways
to whisperless air

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