Fish

It’s faster than a heartbeat
when you look at me,
faster than a blink,

than my fingers
pounding out a text
as I drift down retail streets.

We should have this out
in the same city. You should be
howling. Me claiming innocence,

you overreacting. Instead
the snow’s piling up,
each flake attacking. Capitals

can’t relay my anger.
Exclamations. The river
is frozen. I want

my nights back. I want
your days. And your finger.
And your head. We should

be falling, accumulating,
dangerously slipping.

Not melting.

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Author:

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

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