Reconstruction Site

I want to tell you

I live on a thin raft

constructed far from shore

in a Western reverie

where Pharaoh voices crescendo and narrow beats escape

a singing river – full of friends waiting

to tell me, with dry sand cemented to their fingers –

how the thin raft has escaped.

And my chest is hard.

I want to tell you:

the strange morning is opening;

time for reorientation.

I still need you.

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