It’s been a long time coming
I’ve had to reach deep inside my shipwrecked city to say
goodbye to my
dead. Now, I am a morning mutant, calling
out His Name from my
nuclear abyss, ninety-five times a day.
I’ve lost all my images to the moon, to the doorways that
promise answers, to stories of old wars, and I bury my
head in the piñatas waiting for the
sun to shine brighter.
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