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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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