last week i blamed the moon
the week before that my shedding womb
this week the warm berg winds unexpectedly melting
our hibernating hearts
the blood and bones collide
no one knows which direction to go
out of joint
the widening gyre
the people can not hear the poets
the poets do not hear themselves
the sky crumbles
the anchor dissolves
the heart sinks
still the soul
keeps
rising
may 2024
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