the grey layered sky
gradated upwards like
an infinite, ever-rising
block of shale
glimpses of dawn:
the struts and beams
on which angry rainclouds
hang and crawl into space
amidst the sullenness
i see two dancing
inches of black
tossed by the wind
erratic and random
but for entangled flightpaths
tracing one another
chopping at wingtips
perspective pins
everything flat
the illusion of only two axes
in the grey morning sky
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