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Where Shadows Pool

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Summary:

We keep them in bone-light jars,
these grins of silt and vanished teeth—
each curve a fossil of forgotten laughter,
amber-stung with time’s slow syrup.

Some are whispers etched in clay,
crack-lipped and crow’s-footed,
in the hollows of unmarked graves,
others glow like foxfire.

We label them in dead languages,
stack them high where shadows pool—
each smile, a key to a door that burned
before there was God and history began,

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