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White Birds
When you see the glimmering green,
play catch with golden snow,
and a spray reaches down,
to caress your cheeks,
you know you’re there.
The face of a phoenix,
kissing your skin,
leaving it’s honey lipstick,
you know you’re there.
Misshapen clouds gliding,
through the ink hue,
fall to our feet,
consuming stolen treasures,
and escape from miniature shadows,
rushed squeals from the addiction,
you know you’re there.
When your chest expands,
with the clapping of shore,
and contracts,
enclosing in the invisible night,
you know you’re there.
Dipping a toe into,
rolling layers of silver dough,
and pulling your stomach together,
submerging underneath the glitter,
finding it slow,
but in a quick,
you know you’re there-
you know you’re there.
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Inspired by Belinda Longmiles’s, ‘Chillicothe’