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“A poster from a childhood bedroom wall”

“A poster from a childhood bedroom wall”

If there is room anywhere else,
I will go there
and with a straight face say, ‘I sent myself.’
The fault line that you created for me
by my lack of navigation- I feel,
desperate, blind, an unending need
to witness more than I can handle,
walk away from.

If this isn’t true, then give me the counter argument,
the counter measure.
More simply, give me that look
that says, ‘You are far too hard on yourself’,
‘rest now, for a bit, and I will keep watch,
it is not as if you are alone in this’.

What beekeeper says this?
Near that underneath
the whole season and sky
pulls itself into, with a pace
only memory can make.

Someone else’s forgotten touch,
and touched until the body
is near its bursting,
packing each one to the brim,
the thread of all that happened
mended into stronger stuff- into human coil,
into beekeeper and heart torn navigation,
my hand to your hand-
I might have missed ‘living’ but not ‘life’.


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