A Collection of Eyelashes on Paper

If I blew them off the page
they would haunt me tomorrow,

follow me to the courtyard
where my son


pokes a fish with a stick
and I have to tell him


about the dark boat
that milked a galaxy


into my heart.
My counsel will be clear:


he will take the blood-pouch
from inside the fish


and pierce my name
on his arm in owl-scratch script.
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