If I were a man (with an eggtooth)

My youth was spent shoring up holes

around my soul.

In these early days of autumn,

mists obscureĀ the fear

of darkness

creeping through the walls of green.

Sun made leaves

falling, tumbling

exposing

nothing

but everything.

 

As if the sky could fall away

outwards.

I would have preferredĀ Truman’s dome

the shell

Blame Copernicus for this hell

Exposed to the heavens.

I spend my adult life taking down the wall,

packing it away again.

Pipping through the moon

to the light from the outside.

Consuming the shell to nourish my bones.

To become what I already am.

 


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