• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 04
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Heavy Verse

Who will remember
the words we came here to lay
under these constraints?

What quick-sketch artist
captures my hair, your beret,
for posterity?

The specific blur
of your shoulder turned away.
No season words here.

My soul behind glass,
yours behind riot gear. Say,
how do moments end?

The germination
of our new resistance plays
havoc on my feet.