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A Dun Cow

Wisp-shadowed basilisk and
Sighing irises stirring wilted
purple heads into the pond:
I wish you'd leave my sight
Dry of your looks. I know the
Way those petals slide their
Meek tongues against damp
Hooves. And I can imagine
A rudder-tail*s dusky scales
Being dragged over the same
Silent tongues, a lizard mouth
Flickering full of fire coral
Teeth, eyes of splintered black
Timber, and sour spines ridging
A backbone. We have no place
Together, basilisk. I hold myself
Still beneath a skyful of moon,
Worried about what you will do next
You keep me tired and afraid. I keep dreaming of you and your
Mute irises beside the pond.
Frank Schlotz
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