Discrete mathematics
Slim and methodical cries of gulls
pose from a lack of music
and its attendent calculations
As if anything
could have no music–
light in the shape
of my thumbprint
The outer edges of the islands
grow after 3am
a silver mist that stinks
of viciousness
Overlap and overlay
Overlap and overlay
You would see me if
it weren’t for the trees
covering me over with pitch
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