It is dawn in a dream and
my body is made of politics
nerves write these goodbyes
language breaks at my joints
water seldom returns to eyes
(though it does get in my nose)
we are afraid to admit it--
our days are ephemeral
insects chide and chatter
stars grind and grumble
_
my body is made of politics
nerves write these goodbyes
language breaks at my joints
water seldom returns to eyes
(though it does get in my nose)
we are afraid to admit it--
our days are ephemeral
insects chide and chatter
stars grind and grumble
_
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