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Poem #23

ATLAS, part 2

restless road rage knots you in asphalt ribbons tied to sunset suicides––glass shards bleed out into the next life full of broken blue birds; trauma begets trauma, inescapable. you are pre-installed humanity befriending the false prophets that arose to test you, to tempt you with licentiousness; condemnation has not been idle, their destruction did not sleep. beloved, do not believe the spirit when it whispers: Your master is long delayed. One will be taken and one one will be left. these are labor pains that go as mourning waves of ocean. remember: your instincts are bathed in your mother’s blood.

bam

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Striped I fell from a dock in the summer, split my hand open like a ripened fig, blood drip-dropping to ruddy the waves while I gulped down salty red, I swam to shore, hand raised above my head, looki

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