Poem By Sarah Eve

These are just opacities
Gripping the sidebar
Righting the wrong sides
Easing the night steps
Closing the cellar door
Smiling at crows

Atop the night
Fall unspoken intentions
Into spare sights
Out of my third eye
Witness the relocation
Of spatial speckled sturdiness

Infinite this climbs
Into the back of pick-ups and rides
Along the gravel roads
Towards ifs, ands, buts
…Anyways, I’m lazy with this choice
The cusp of self-definition.

Maybe it’s because I resent your catagories…

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