Living, and Dying


And this is the way you tell me you’ve grown tired

and I say you’ve been tired all along


I tell you I won’t light your stone avenues,
point at landmarks unseen, or the map
still folded


I rise against your close-eyed sickness
not by closing,

but not stopping to look


Not anymore


This is how I yell when I pass

say I won’t be like you

and leave you to trip on your stones


And this is the way we’re made fierce

by knowing things unspeakable


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