Tired, waiting at the door
yet another rehearsal.
Deportations.
Surrenders--
blur
On folded legs and wheels
we've accumulated maps
for wrongs, words,
and soon--
an edge
I learn to suspect horizons
and they harbor storms
their pennant winds
find us, rush us
clean
_
yet another rehearsal.
Deportations.
Surrenders--
blur
On folded legs and wheels
we've accumulated maps
for wrongs, words,
and soon--
an edge
I learn to suspect horizons
and they harbor storms
their pennant winds
find us, rush us
clean
_
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