Bees play into these rotting pomegranates
A small oval of sun crosses
An empty clearing in your thoughts
Such quiet and such commotion
Like lights switched on and off
The colder nights inspiring love
The sunny days filled with death
And your own as in a crowd
Among them in a foreign city
Miles away so you’re still safe
As long as you stay still
Or run as fast as you can
Every day a few blocks
So you’re not here
When he knocks
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