Telescope

The waves stopped crashing, or at least the sound
didn’t make it all the way to the screen
door anymore, and the silence was a
deep layer of black at the bottom of
the Pacific, the most absolute form
of fog, and the beach was drowned, and the bluffs
crumbled and were never seen again, and
the surface and the sky and all manner
of moisture coalesced into one long
humid moment, bereft of focal points
beyond itself, outside of time, the stars
casting amateur reflections on the
plastic telescope we’d used to capture
Venus earlier after the sun died.

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