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July 1, 2012, vol 8, no 2

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Sonam Chhoki

The Wisdom of the Dark

As a child he knew the dark drop of disused wells. The smells of lichen and rotted animals. A piece of sky caught overhead, the sharpened light of stars framed like a photograph. Rodents nosed around him for stray walnuts tossed by the wind.

He knew if he sat still in this black shaft no one would look for him.

the night still to come
a comma after Venus
first crescent at dusk