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Untitled 08/02/2020

Published: 08 February 2020


Should the world remain broken
like the watches hanging on the walls
that separate me from the pouring rain—

what troubles have my hands
made for me again?

Were I to make
a sand castle on the shore
onto which your colours
were cast this morning;

would you stand on its turrets,
wait behind its parapets
and throw your arms open
against the sun-warmed wind?