from a rented bed, not sure

your voice was heard in a series of secret crisis statements made at the end of a water logged day when i decide it was best to stay inside

i sat alone on my couch believing the escalation of sources and validity of diligent remorses would help us move on

identifying each of us by name a field aflame with counterpunch blame shifting in our chairs with uneasy awareness

what we saw and what you said danced naked for all to see

i liked the way you moved

on a tv set

that’s how i knew you

two dimensional and buried in moving words selected for sensitive souls to be moved to act

they sit a wall away from me

still in shame stained sheets

crusty remnants of what they should have done

what we all should do

open the door

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