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Writer's pictureMicaela Miller

untitled-a poem

red watches gleam

time neither rushed nor slowed

simply

moves

with the eye of the beholder

i’m told things run too deeply

myself included

my veins encapsulate my body, chilled

clocks rush forward on the inside

amid the darkest hour, a mind of clockwork dictates the shallow are free

they pass by me

matter from matter

energy from energy

i feel exposed by the ringing at noon

everything hits deeply

my ribs emulate

the skeleton of a man hunched deeply

is it better

to let go, let seconds persuade me

or feel the rush

pull me forward



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