It’s not large…
Inside, there’s room for me and he,
And we float on rays of light for stretches at a time.
The colors swirl on the soap walls around us,
I know better, yet I reach out-
This time’, I think, ‘if I ever so gently-’
No plosive burst, no cataclysmic crash,
But cold, sticky remnants, hard earth, and the long task
Of constructing the fragile paradise once again.
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