February 27

Cheers to a day begun in gifts, to a clear
red line across the horizon, eating bread
and slices of orange, the belting of nails, sand,

skills. What lingers is the line, a morning filled
with gifts, singing of songs and plying of myths
for strangers, and pride. Slices of apples, and more:

bleating trucks, tangles of hair, fleeting
elation, the applause dying. Done
is my longing. Done. What lingers is
still sound, and still, tangible.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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