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Ed Higgins

Whatever you might think,
diamond dust is always black.

The once perfect light

crushed before us
like some dissembled secret.

From any fixed distance
there are permanent situations

& there are consequences to everything:

even as this pain between us
insists the way out.

Seasons reclaim our expectations
to something simple, finally,

as transparent as the moon mirrored

in your soft eyes always.
How beautifully the light falls there

I have learned by heart already.