Oh, the dark comes down. Close the curtains,
switch on the oil heater, lay a blanket by it so
my little cat can hug it all night.
It’s only 5pm.
With dark comes cold.
With cold, unease.
What was it in childhood
made the cold (not the dark)
so deeply to be dreaded?
Yes, I have fallen in love with the liwuli. I hear tell that other poets all over the internet have done so too.
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