the moon called me back
with the setting sun,
the west in my wrong,
the ocean followed into its deep intensity of darkness.
the moon on this island has no friends,
for the lonely forget its comfort,
the tide pulls back so far.
a playground, nourishes of tax free debt.
paid when the sky dims and exerts in the air freedom in expression of the doubts that cling in my head.
the moon pulls me back, above, under people's skin as i try to soothe and correct the waves that arise in me.
Gino Obuseng
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