Carpeted Atomic Pulse

Wind in wash,
Bend in brook,
The culprit is in the mire.

And the catastrophe at a glance,
Sheds light upon a darkened sky,
The hollow shell that I–

Swept beneath the cartographic floor,
Sensing geographic violence.

Love’s contusions
And misappropriated words,
Split skins and break bottles;
Corrupt the heart,
And keep–

A molecular distance from the Sun,
And two small measurements from the Moon,
So our souls should behave
So that no violence intercedes.


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