flesh

i stand stiffly on the cliffs edge,

and in the whispering wind

the three shapes of our laughter chime

in the tiny hall.

we remember our toes in the thirsty

red earth, it singed the skin on the backs of your knees

we remember your breath,

now filling in my lungs; it erupts,

dies,

and fills again.

here,

Tombstones blanched by moonlight

stand

my flesh

so far from self, and i

am no longer: am less.

Over to you folks, let me know what you think:

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