Paragate
Turning into you
the clavicles of amma ...
In respite of the laughing ————————. —cinderbox
I wither you this pocked parlance
eyes
displaced on page
hysterical rage
Indifferent
time zones
we sketched
the sun
Unbidden tears
dry
your letters run
into
the bowels
Of the earth
The
Sagacious hum
Sublimates the
hearthstone...
To ashes
my rage
succumb
in wake
my feet
a feathered tonne
. Terminator
Gaining
Day
she
burns like
Whitethorn
Over
dew
Pure
And I can’t reach her
Paragate




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