The Harrowing
The worn hands
spines feet
Even he
whose blank hand I held on to
for dear life
phantom limb
On your sidewalk
walking past your café
the piano was being tuned, hard,
trying it, one note at a time
trying, walking outside of time
— was that the night — & space
Blessed are those
who break off from separateness
theirs is wild
heaven.
Little Boat (Wesleyan Poetry)
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