I came back, the wind whistling in my ear,
dove on my elbow, crow on my torn cuff,
but I could not remember; the long lost year
having left the hourglass like the love
that sifted through my hands less able now.
Dry mouth my only friend and fiercest foe,
I wobbled past each flowering branch and bough,
neuropathy on fire from sole to toe.
Lightning in a bottle lit my way
to where the moss was lush upon the stones,
and crosses mocked the many shades of grey,
the shadows over my skin, skull and bones.
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