Never closer than now: my image that I carry
of a chestnut voice, of torn hair, side wise eyes.
This image as full as flesh, mind flesh like mine;
it is carried along from second to second,
it keeps, still it moves, being at my beckoning,
belonging to me, my image, never
closer than now, this instant, this image,
sound ricochets along dendrites, flesh
as fallow as paper, as rich as blood, my blood.
This image in my now is as close as now is all.
NaPoWriMo #13
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