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November 18, 2024
"Mes de los Muertos"

The bullies were tough on me in high school Mikale

By Abigail George

The bullies were tough on me in high school Mikale

You're a tree, a
    dove, an idea, a

name, a face. It belonged to
    me. Made me feel

whole. I gathered
    wisdom in my hands.

It felt surreal. My
    mouth dry. My spirit

warm. I have to embrace
    the future. This,

(Perhaps that is why I'm a poet.
    I'm always writing to reach you.)

this means war.
    You're a sigh. Ornamental.

Now I know what
    love is. Letting go. Letting go.

Health reasons
    dictate the distances

I travel now. Go places.
    Going, going, gone.

I am the current, the climate, the energy
    of the sun, the planets.

I am intricate. I am thought.
    I am the morning.

I am spirit, and future.
    You're a Saturday morning.

Remote-controlled flesh and blood.
    In your arms I feel I can be anything.






Article © Abigail George. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-12-16
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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