the patrol

we kept to the dense foliage
six of us engaged to reconnoitre

something had been lost—no one could say what
the moon shone like tipped gasoline 

returning every night no matter the phase
a mood shining wetly on the grass

what was new about it? I asked my captain
he replied only in low and mystical growling

the field spoke in intimate languages
we continued searching—was it ever there?

six of us who couldn’t remember

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