Attune and attenuate,
love’s a minor magistrate
strapping a wand to her
inner moon, a pearled mound
flocked by a notch. Attune
and undulate like a tuning
spoon reverberating
les ondes du rêve du monde.
One world wave to sate one
world hate—too late, too soon—
under / over acre and dune.
Love folds her minute hands.
Love skates dry lakes and wet
ruins crooning “Alouette.”
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