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We Can Learn From This, You Know by Jacob Nantz

We should have seen the signs,

even as kids. I remember a night,

like so many nights. The moon split

open the sky, its silver light bursting

through a crescent gash & hanging

over us. You, just a child, tagged along.

My friends & I, abusing an evening’s

freedom, saw streetlamps & houses,

every stagnant thing appear to ripple

like a spoon’s guts over a flame’s heat.

You know what I mean. We all have vices,

& who’s to say whose are worse if we’re

all buried in the end? There is no use

in weighing afflictions. Any weight

so heavy should be shed. To survive

ourselves is to level the faults where

we often trip. We made a mess that night,

like so many nights. The black sky held

its breath, took a slow turn to blue as we

hurried to hide our secrets. The moon’s

sharp edges blurred into their new backdrop

as if to warn us: the night is not over; time is

not up but will be soon. It urged: collect the litter

together. See how your shadows, being cast across

the lawn, resemble each other, how they grow

when merged & tower into morning.



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