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Two Cinquains


by Alan F. Hilfiker


SPOT ON OUR LUNG

We sense

A stillborn dawn.

A furtive, lurking gray,

A sleight of dusk, eclipse, that follows

Us.

 

 

TITANIC'S   LANTERNS

Upon

My rain-glazed panes

Wet  lights from neighbors glow

Like  lantern beams from shipwrecks down

Below.

 

                                             AFH

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