drowning in light, there’s a ghost of a poem. an answer to an unasked question burning the throat. when will be the right time to leave?

there is a silence like a hallway between us. i sweep to fill the time. there is a meeting of the elders in the livingroom. the dead ends, damaged by growth. there is a low murmur, a tickle of sound. my skin wrinkles as we wait. there is a decision to be made. a low hanging cloud. all of these words converse with each other, but never include me.

you found safety stuck in a tree. you tried to coax her down. she shook at the knees. there was a time when i was unafraid. i learned to walk/behind my shadow. there is no (right) time to tell you that my blood is on fire from all of this wanting.

the elders have decided. i breathe in the dirt i’ve swept. i choke on silence. you transcribe what the elders have chosen. i can’t hear you/leave.


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