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You, culprit that took my canvas and spun it into stunning art,

lock into your ship. Nobody knows that you carry a nimbus atop your

skull. Yet you stir no lockjaw. But still garrulous as I am,

you still bring skittish inclinations to my body.

Afraid I will botch this, I hang still,

do not say what is brought to mind—

it will snatch you away from us. Burnt sandalwood

and passion cannot command you to stay.

So, my plucky, worldly astronaut,

orbiting around, think of us, and land into our habit again.

Lindsay Geimer is an aspiring writer who graduated with her Bachelor’s in English with a concentration in Creative Writing from NMSU this past spring. She will be pursuing a Master's in Library Sciences this fall, but continues to read and write. She hopes to inspire a love of both reading and writing with her work. You can find her on Instagram @lindsayg.10.

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