I see you bringing mud again
not for you
you open up elsewhere
but for who?
I would help you if the skies were not in the way

I am not separate from you
when we move there is no place where we stop


morning water to drink
I carry you with me
not all who need you
have enough to drink you
enough of you
for to make sweat and tears


you are the color of bread now
I am emptying out my eyes in you
the sun closes my eyes













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