Desk Space

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Waiting on Deck


Tell me my mind will not sink away like the numbing of my body.
Tell me I won’t be forgotten like this…
May it be a shooting star,
Not a man made spark of warning.
May the land be invisible in the clogging black,
Not out of sea level’s sight.
May the corridors return parallel to the line of sun rise I wish to witness again.
Not exponentially tilting until sucked into the ice bite.
May their top halves cheer with victory.
Not flail for the fight of a second chance.
May the ice be the will of higher beings.
Not the sign of another man’s mistake.
May the bending metals and whistles sing for hope.
Not plead to be muffled by the ocean pull.
The end of all lit beauty in the dark.
Frozen silk dresses dancing in water.
May lovers find each other’s hands, once able to stand.
May it be anything… but what it is.





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