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by jason lee

That night I made coffee without music

Slept in a hat, left time

To walk to dark places—

The window

The city

On a hill—imagined

A pilgrimage of neighbors, to towers and tops of trees

That night there would be an eclipse

The moon would swell with the harvest

And blood, achieve an abundance of self

So fiery and complete it would be as herald, as omen

Of our own transfiguration

I imagined eyes and telescopes like a dappled pane

Assembled into the face

Of all the light to which we are obstacle

And for a time after still, I saw it

In the morning’s missing passengers, the work delayed

I saw what was realized in dream:

All the space we are due

All that is worthy in shadow and absence


Jason Lee is an undergraduate history student at Yale University. He loves and thanks his family and friends, and supports the cause of workers and labor everywhere.


Image by Bree Anne
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