I am barefoot.
There is ice between my toes
so hot it’s cold, so cold
that flames have begun
to flicker below me.
There is a porch
and sunset on the horizon.
A dagger forms on the
brim of my hat. In the back
of my mind,
I am here because of you.
At the edge of it all
there is a cliff and beneath
a step to a path that
I have walked before.
It’s all a matter of what
the voices will say today.
There is a question
buried here in this eye
a picture of a month
ago, a step
arms thrown out grasping,
legs alongside the ground.
A man falling into
an imprint.
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