sleight rip in the stings of a violin
tings of strings, a cage of wood
a pack of cards flipped to pieces
catching cats against the breaths
another window minutes before
the cage rots away, giving more
shine to the seeds stuck in a hole
rolling as thunder, a touch of shock
one second from midnight freights
deceiving the curls among the clouds
it takes and takes and takes as long
as time ticks to murky minutes
drinking a dry cycle around the art
deceiving until the end that
sparkles strings again.

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