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The sheets lay flat and still, pulled up
over the pillows; a gurney mourning
for a body.
Dust filtered into the bedroom like
delicate specks of gold, flirting with
one another in a spiralling dance.
All else was still, awaiting a resident,
anticipating a body to cradle for an
evening or so. Nearby, a leaky faucet
announced another moment passed,
harmonising with the patient thrumming
of the clock in the hallway.
There was a pool of moths in the
hollow pit of the skylight, casting
dull obscurities upon the room, like the
ghosts of lost creatures from an ancient
time. Alas, they were not, and the room
was still empty.

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Ash
Christine
Beth
Matt, Bridget
Aidan, Sonny & Cherman
Ma
Eli
Nonno
Alice
Sassafras
Claire & Michael
Eli.

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There is more us

Than I have ever known
There is peace in the apiary
We have work to do.
Born of each others womb

like mist, like smoke, like dawning
fog I exhale you and you rise to
greet me saying

hello again.

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