poetry considered as a gap in the blind

I am seized by the world’s echo
get up, trip again
while the waves
chime in my bones
fractures snake in chains
the bones reform
as rocks – eventually

the moon roars past
and never moves very fast
the light of it, reflective
slides along the ground

& presses through
the gaps in the blind
& curtly says

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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