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Here comes the cosmic hour

to quiet, and listen

to hold my heart by my hand

lead it down the cobblestones and

each dip of the alleyway

sitting still now, watching

the ladybirds make figure eights on the wall

the minutes chasing me into the evening

as I try to get to the bottom of myself

and all the while

the air turns crisp and the edges less sharp

some flavour of peace I hadn’t noticed before

belonging and longing

with a sprig of fresh mint and sugar around the rim

on the rocks, of course

I show up –

not what I ordered, but I down it and head to the library.

Illustration by Tiffany Tsoi.


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