6/1/22 Under the Magnolia Moon
Hearts of flint (and stone)
like kaleidoscopic light
spark in steady glow
How limited the precision of language, the metrics of marking time.
Dare I mention the scarlet strips of leather looped around my ankle?
How I held my breath as their body came closer to the fire. Already I feel
the aura of my own armor.
2 thoughts on "6/1/22 Under the Magnolia Moon"
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“How limited the precision of language, the metrics of marking time.”
I really like that line
Liked:
the aura of my own armor.