MECHANICS

Night falls.
Full moon.
I am on the ice.
My hand casts shadows
     onto itself...my palm looks like
     the ribbed sands of a desert.
Sand and ice--
the reconciliation of extremes.

I never dreamt that water
     under ice could make a sound.

Overhead, a shadow is falling
      for twelve thousand miles.
It never stops falling.
But on the other side of the world
     there rolls eternal dawn.


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