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American sky.

How can I turn back toward the pearl moon punctured into the pale dusk winter blue? How can I turn back? How can I turn back? Moon, statue of promise, flesh-moon immune to my loneliness: follow me--will you? Round moon caught between these limbs' blackening hue. How can I turn back? How can I turn back? Almost perfect, like the thumb's print pressed huge. Might I be your lover if I refuse this world of distance, clip its edges through? How can I turn back? How can I turn back? Can you comfort me, oh ice-silent moon? All this darkness falling around us will soon cover me completely and we will move-- (How can I turn back?) (How can I turn back?) further in distance. For in distance you carry that body: universe, and loom from that black pocket. Nothing is your view. How can I turn back? How can I turn back? I shall memorize, in this light's form, you
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Author:Cory, Cynthia Jay
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:May 1, 1993
Words:161
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