avatarKimberly Thomas

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Abstract

eferral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="be31">Close your eyes</p><p id="02fb">And read to me</p><p id="5e06">So my mind may see</p><p id="f266">Behind a blank lucidity of</p><p id="5dfd">A thousand stares, that you’re</p><p id="d38a">Not really there.</p><p id="62db">Here we come to</p><p id="1932">Sunday morn, my</p><p id="c19c">Antarctica, staring off<

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/p><p id="b988">Through the Sun to</p><p id="9d8a">Convince us both our time</p><p id="5427">Is done.</p><p id="5491">But then there’s eternity,</p><p id="4e2f">And the unrequited fruitfulness</p><p id="fcfa">Of longing, that burns</p><p id="0cdc">Desire into a rage</p><p id="3cfb">And melts lust, wistfully,</p><p id="7bd1">Right off the page.</p></article></body>

Antarctica

A poem

Photo by Torsten Dederichs on Unsplash

Close your eyes

And read to me

So my mind may see

Behind a blank lucidity of

A thousand stares, that you’re

Not really there.

Here we come to

Sunday morn, my

Antarctica, staring off

Through the Sun to

Convince us both our time

Is done.

But then there’s eternity,

And the unrequited fruitfulness

Of longing, that burns

Desire into a rage

And melts lust, wistfully,

Right off the page.

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