poems from the north, day 11

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Future Dogwoods — photo, my own

A sense of longing
for belonging

falls heavy into your arms
on an undisclosed eve

secret voices reveal
the true meaning
of desire

in skins so pale
they make their own
tapioca

with idle hours to fill
each bubble
thoroughly

with primitive rumination
on which candy

you’ll taste
at dawn

Written by

Holes and a series of rabbits — my debut poetry collection — now available! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089RRRGXX/

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