Malakal
It was summer in Malakal.
The forest stole the wind
and I swallowed my footsteps.
Nobody came to the springs.
Butt naked I sat halfway
through my life measuring
this, that.
In malakal it was summer.
Everything was halved or merged.
Half-cut fingers, half-foxgloves,
a marrowbone-cum-cabbage white.
The daylight moon, split.
I talked to nobody about
this, that.
Malakal in summer it was.
Ants were carrying a caterpillar
home. No bird arguing.
Nobody said missiles crossing
so I stayed. The night trees
stole the seas, canceling
this, that.
2019-11-21 20:14:38
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