
moppet, please don't forget my name—
he writes:
"Remember: by hook or by crook
i'll be the last smudge in your book"
with one thumb dipped in extant blood, dabs a mark
in the form of a pair of falcons taking flight.
wing-tip to wing-tip, a length of golden strand
in between, clasped in desperate talons,
compelled by inaudible thrum of imminent storm,
flutter, distorting as they attempt to separate.
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