You thought it never occurred to me

to search for traces of you in the short summer nights,

before they step aside to make room for majestic sunrays

that ripen fruit and multiply their burning through millions of

glowing surfaces. You thought I’d forgotten how nighttide

peeks through leaves covered in mist–miniature mirrors

of hugging moons, casting their luscious midnights through



You thought sleeping would keep my mind elsewhere.

Anda Marcu
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