that full moon mood 

cold and bright cascades:

a twist, a press 

as a touch, wrung wistful 

grips shaped gasps

goosebumps, brushing thistles

a skyward buck

a smiling howl

and a cooling, bliss-ed

descent

 again. 

this is what worship

should feel like 

mouths mapping a collapsing curve 

drawn closer--too close 

to a white hot center

spel...

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