Light is a memory
of itself by the time
it messes with her
view to cast this shadow
in triplicate. Her hand moves
across a flat whiteness,
her fingers navigate
the journey to this wall
edge—one no descending
darkness can erase.
Light is a memory
of itself by the time
it messes with her
view to cast this shadow
in triplicate. Her hand moves
across a flat whiteness,
her fingers navigate
the journey to this wall
edge—one no descending
darkness can erase.