seeing everything again today /
all the drips, flakes, peels, crusts /
lifting up into our thin atmosphere /
death isn’t worming through the ground /
it is as light as last year’s dusted skin /
blinking in the late afternoon sun /
swimming in the air upwards /
towards the nothing expanding above our heads /
death is weightless, without form /
spreading out amongst emptied space /
and pricks of light holding
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