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we climbed onto the wall and stood
in the shadow
of the moon

we heard the skybirds
calling and saw
wings flashing;

we touched hands
and each one
said

something and we
remained there
on the wall;

do not go there,
one of us
cried

do not give yourself
to the
demons

who were they?
where did they hide?
everywhere the wind

was moving the trees
with a sudden shape
of the moon

it was behind
the cloud and
its

face was
turned
away;

one of us said
where is the moon,
the beloved moon?

   

 

My mother, Rose; Taylor Park, Millburn, 1980.
 
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