The Moya View
There will be a time when God leaves you.
Maybe summer. Maybe winter.
The last thing he will say:
Keep searching. Keep finding.
Seek me in the trash, the womb
lungs and heart.
He will leave you agape and stirring,
just a memory prayer
to say as the sun rises
and you wonder whether
winter or summer
has the holiest months.
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JONATHAN MOYA
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