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The Eye in the Ceiling


You sit snug in my ceiling
Staring at the room
While insects worship you.


But I can hide you in the night
And you body like a corpse
Loses its heat in seconds.


This time however
Resurrection is simple,
Far simpler than the painful
Mathematics of your birth:


Though in your final death
I'll go through the clumsy
Ritual of winding you,


Knowing I could not
Have touched you
in your citadel an hour ago.

Written by Eugene B. Redmond

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