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  Christopher Kelen
   
     
  
 
Taipa: aubade

   a candle
   then a bird for light

   kettle up against my sun

   the bright soaks us
   from other days
   as if the night were cracked
   mere habit of haunting eyes

   so
   thoughtless clouds stick unintending
   boats crossing too in their first clothes
   pale water holding up the dawn

   a bridge
   the Bank of China
      casts a glittering stripe
   to bend the silver of my river
   to take the wheel’s long bow                   



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