Copses

In the tunnel of trees

my arms slouch towards

the green, in your absence,

my eloquence is at stake,

but I can feel the music,

again, again, again, and

taste the salt in my tears

every time the water hits

my face, heals my wounds;

for each end an end sits

impermeable, but terror

knows not my language,

so my body’s music is still,

static, if only while I forget

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~ by Shawn M. Young on November 15, 2017.

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