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I can see the horizon through your eye.
I see winter and summer in equal measure.
You are the sum of lines stretched
to all possible opposites.
Asleep you are a marionette
lodged in the curl of a shoulder.
Your latencies lie bare, links
of a chain of power carelessly dropped.
You are either asleep or running.
Love at this time sits hollow
in the elision of flesh and bone.
Your eye frames a different world.
© Margaret Morgan 2004