Daniel Mark Patterson is a writer living in Niagara Falls who loves wind, rain and mountains. In another time he'd have been telling stories amidst the shadows of a campfire. "Eclipse" is in Short Circuit #04, Short Édition's quarterly review.

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I often cling too longingly 
during hugs, 
hold that hand one awkward 
(beat) 
too long. 
Sometimes I disparage myself, 
because I like to be reassured 
others care.

This world of warmth 
and friends 
is a strange 
one for me. 
It lacks the 
isolation 
and cruelty 
I am used to.

There is a safety here. 
Sometimes the greatest 
gift is an absence of fear.

Unfortunately, even this 
absence 
sometimes births it.

Do you recognize the fervency 
behind my laughter? 
The mania behind my jokes?

I worry I do not belong here. 
That all those I love will realize 
I am not worthy of these 
kindnesses.

That, 
I am Lucifer. 
Become too bold, 
striven too hard, 
and 
must be 
flung 
off 
my 
lofty 
perch.

I feel certain 
that this world is 
too full of beauty. 
That it's all being used up.

So I will clutch a little more fiercely, 
laugh a little more frantically, 
sing a little more feverishly, 
dance a little more frenetically 
these lunar nights.

Each morning I stuff a section 
of the sun in my belly.

Lest the Universe snatch the Love away, 
replacing it with ashes.

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