By | 15 September 2022

I first notice in a poem the longest line
a place where I can lie down
come apart as a thing with no force of life

a place where a light has been left on
like in the other room
feels too far to switch off and how bright

whether or not someone’s there
Is this the merciful distance of disaster?

The earth senses me and I return
its light and tenuous silence:

I am on the brink of death and my lungs
I call them my wings
these wings were never a part of me

Say it might be dazzlingly bright
when it is over and I go the long way
home as the only disruption of light

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