Strike the palms then
bathe the bruise
Watch the wooden stars with
splintered eyes
Blink out the burns and
stare the sun
Quake the hills that
grow green and damp in the
cavern of the heart
Wash the rain of dirt then
stomp the soil
Drink the air
exhale its colors
Hear the wound and
let it roar
Hush the sound and
soothe the blood
Descend the quiet
Command the still.
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