Home » Poetry » Boiling

Boiling

Your head has been boiling
for some time now-
is it time to taste the plague
you’ve cooked up?

No-
the bones that you trust
sing a song of tomorrow,
tomorrow,
unending,
to die with the light-

your everlasting shipwreck
all over again

until time intervenes for you,
forgives the stones
you could not move.

 

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