Over again,calm waterslet us cross into a fieldwhere we raiseda rotting refugewith a loose knot,before a feverburned it down. We can’t keepcoming around,to keep tryingwhen our cold handsare alwayswet with tears. To keep breaking downtakes us pastour limits, more than once.We will neverbe able to see the sun,until that knotdivides intothe best of oursymmetry. Into…

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