A child like him
folds like a blanket
when he’s cold in the dome.
Jet black ink tides
on the stitched flower organ.
A child like him holds the
eyes older than the broken
lilac mold.
Crouching like a crow
on the rocks
shivering
paralyzed
What could have
brought me to this low
outlined in blue yarn
shaded with shadows.
A child like him holds the
eyes higher than the flag.
A child like him
will break the sound pole.
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