as a boy, i would draw oars
on paperboard cut-outs of kings and queens
deep, swinging oars made from oak
and ash
and dogwood
they are folded over, now
crushed into shards of paper
cutting memories into my ribs
steering my heart, heaving me
towards a final
realization
i am not like you
i am small
i am frail
but i am new
i am an unborn thing.
1 comment:
this is super awesome
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