Twilight and children
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opening their eyes to the moonlight
with old sunlight in their hair cooling slow.
On blue fleshy petals they dance naked,
skyclad and barefoot in the morning dew.
The soft dead cries
violently born anew.
The young praise the stars of the night sky;
they laugh and wane like darkness and flow
wherever dreams go.
Daylight and men
closing their eyes to the sunlight
with old moonlight in their blood burning slow.
On the spines of the poor they dance crooked,
white-collared in wing-tipped shoes.
The living dies,
silently setting again.
The old salute the stars of a striped flag;
they ache and shrivel in the earth and fade,
as the sunlight wilts and withers tonight.