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Moonlight Oracles

by Cameron Brooks

I.

We squatted among the cattails on five-gallon buckets flipped and flecked with cement older than me. The country pond winked in the moonlight as we waited for channel cats to fetch the chicken liver wound around our treble hooks.

We waited with the crickets and the bullfrogs. We waited in the darkness of a deep summer night, which is no darkness.

II.

You spoke to me through the darkness, and what was true and what was not true of all you told me, it hardly matters.

III.

Our casting rods arc toward the stars like prayers.

Somewhere up there two rusted bells hang on the silence— waiting for an answer from the other end, a chime, a signal that the night is yet young.

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