180 Degrees

A second rewrite been editing the archives again


Kiyo Murakami

Kiyo Murakami

Your tectonic heart

Gathers breadth

The air is sullen, commiserate

It scatters momentum-

Hissing black daisies

That fracture and wilt

Over asphalt

Their deranged shadows

A funeral procession,

Swallowing entire thoroughfares

And veins too tight for ingress.

Soiled rainbows pool inside

Your tumescent pupils

It’s your sorrow I see

In the storm’s distillation

The reflection of your brooding silence

That stymied heart of thorns,

Incomprehensible in greeting.

These clouds,

The color of pumice,

Form a defensive blanket,

Snuffing out all

Adversarial bodies of light

Eyes closed

You turn 180 degrees

And withdraw,

A distinct continent

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