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the men who said that

they would

stand on guard at the river over

night fall, their armour had

already rusted, they had silver eyes, too.  the

neon lights on the

other side

of the banks are blinking

so often that they put the men into

a trance.  when the snow comes, it falls

so softly as it freezes them, that

they mistake it for cotton, candy cotton.

they have frozen their arms.  their blinders

go shut, and oxygen arrives

at the parameters of their skin, wicking itself

into the steel.

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