September 19

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poetry

lost a bit
too easy to float

in a darkened room
eyes adjusting

static, snow falling
on the ceiling

there are so many
tones of silence

this one aches
hollow as a bird bone

this down comforter
is heavier

it’s the air
trapped

between feathers
that warms

flight light
but more parachute

or net
for falling upwards?

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