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Image by Tony Detroit

Coughing Lunatic
By Allan Lake
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Tonight while walking along the shore,

the moon and I engaged in a game. 

Luna would appear from behind clouds –

illuminating same – and I’d fix my eyes

on her and think, Luna, you big flirt!

Enjoying myself as constant moon

went around its extraordinary planet.

For some reason it took me back

to a misguided pilgrimage made in youth

where I witnessed an old zealot peeking

from behind a tree trunk, pretending

for the benefit of perplexed pilgrims

that he could not bear to be any closer

to the house-cum-shrine of his in-

fallible dead messiah.

Luna and I had no audience

– other than billions of stars – 

being manifestations of what’s

ordinary. I was coughing,

probably falling ill, despite

breathing that salty sea air.

Image by Amelia Bartlett

Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. He has published poems in 20 different countries. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.

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