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there was the strangest noiseTo Britta Kallevang's previous piece     someone has touched the moonTo Britta Kallevang's next piece

the end of it comes
when the freeze grips each finger
burning the heads where they would be
if what was burning was
something other than
fingers, black
it is thursday the 13th
doesn't that explain it
how a ghost ship pulled in
the nature of its gait as it closed in
it came, creaking boards and mast
it came on to an active land
where writers, artists, architects
athletes, scientists sat down
to the morning coffee
and their plans in hand
then death
to the paws of
shortly after charred spots
rich in energy of sorts
grew coconuts
the sun came out
and the serious hearts lifted

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