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Jared Pearce
It’ll take forever to get home.
We griped against the cold in the gripping
darkness, somehow showing we could be
clever, our minds burning a cave to shelter
the shivers. Then the stars wheeled out,
and the snow, for all we knew, was the end of times:
our planet plunged through its milky way basket.
Nothing eventually streamed from heaven.
Even the cold ashes of her eyes
gave place to the dark cold
where we surrendered, empty handed.
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