[Photo by irina gache]

war lives inside the ridges / the cusp is violent and ravenous like the trees / consuming the dead, chars at the bottom of the swamp know little, know the bones and the feeling of brain rot, the cold and the dark / know the thousand years of rain soaking into brine and  cave lights/ black into black / know stone faces are crawling into the dreams and pulling whales from the sea in their hands / fins and bent tails over their backs and choking in the sand / the figures are waxing into the night / fading into the folds of sunrise and living on the palms of the dusk / children in the shallows / kicking at waves / sand eating away at their toes, the nails encrusted in grains / grains; grains of shortened carbon / found clutching to their bones and suckling at the marrow of life


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