inclement
hope rising on the black
threads
of the candle's final sigh,
knotting
into hands that touched you.
I
will wear through the knees of supplication,
so
what if the blood flows into the caliche, nothing
will
grow in this ground of bones.
eyes
pinned, breathing between fingers,
lungs
salient in the grip of beauty.
I
am developing a taste for the infinite
and
the easy lie of kindness
.
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