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Wednesday, April 29, 2020
words used to sprout
like new green wheals
from the tendrils of a crashing winter
zigzag marathons
on the last vestiges of snow
trying to avoid
loch ness monsters
nipping at my heels.
they have been grounded
For some time now;
stuck on a separate plane
But somehow
behind scuba masks
and airhugs
the sealed words.
the words we have are enough.