Friday, January 22, 2021

Repair

In your lapse--there's only air, 

while I keep walking 

everywhere.

Silence sings here, shame too--

like a mosquito hymn 

in my ear.


Perhaps I'm a savant of fracture

on an enraptured 

exiled page--

perhaps I've siphoned my love

into stories just a little

or too late.

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