loss of faithOliver Luker
I am bent double, elbows clasped behind – we prepare for flight and one day it takes us, it frees us from ourselves, from you. my carping host is rictus-struck and bound by hope – where the seeds of his good begin, mine end I know not ghost, nor peace, nor flight. what parts for me in two, and then in two again, is mine and mine alone.
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