Monday, December 2, 2019

Untitled Poem


(untitled)

Who am I anymore?
Now that I’ve escaped anything
worth worrying about.
The spire of the architecture
atop the grand old theater
looking out across the city
and out to sea
seems to be catching the
sunlight in a way that
escapes a day of the week:
that light and that blue and cloud
could be a Sunday
could be a Wednesday,
could be a day
a thousand years from now.
The sight of it is making my body
feel like it’s floating
this late date,
denoting I’m part
of what is timeless; making me ask
who am I anymore? Now that
I’ve escaped; now
that I’ve escaped.


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