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Instead of seeking out the Virgin Mary
on the wall of an abandoned building
I walk along the lake, anticipating
a gale that never burst. The storm’s mass
split apart by a cartwheeling wind, the black
clouds becoming buffalo charging
over the horizon. Robed in a silhouette
of dusk, the swell of the ridgeline’s curve
suggests a sleeping muse. The sunset,
a jewel in her navel flashing
brilliant hues yet to be named.
Published in Interdisciplinay Humanities
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