Imagine

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Momentum stopped
A slap of shock
My body rocked, and caught
In tightening twists of isolation

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It bangs on the windows
and rattles down the stairs
It roils and it boils
and it always comes prepared

Word Shimmy sleeping-690429_1280
Sleep treads on stockinged feet
Half-conscious rhythms twist my head

Hope
Your hull is torn, your canvas in tatters,
You’ve bartered the last coin for biscuits and rum
The looking glass shows you a care worn expression
But sail out once more, the hard work’s not done.

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Between us a sea
An ocean of figures
Of meanings and photos
To lap at our shore…