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And all will spiral into sunlight,
the dirt inside my mother, remembering
how it smiled itself in specks, the last
of atoms blinding upward, a moment
of reflecting back at faces,
every one in hatred isolation
finding out the sorrow in a soup,
the loneliest all reconciliated
in the fated and united knowing

And all will spiral into sunlight,
the knowledge of the past, untethering
the fragile valence of the subject’s body,
a glimpse into the future – or a promise?
The look away from love will last a moment?
If only they could trample all the gardens,
the careful cultivation from the depths,
pluck the nauseous operators out beneath
to hasten all our love in happening

And all will spiral into sunlight,
and I threw my fire at the dawn,
and I remember final, keen magentas,
sparking off the mournful rain,
all the nervous and the senseless
that outside my heart had come and gone

untitled - December 20, 2024 -