Consigned
We streamed into the stream
The water we stood in
We stood in
Only once
We eventually returned to where
We came from
We came from a desolate place
We began to melt away
I was not sorry
We had been in time
In time we’ll be again
Or we won’t
What I’m Reading:
“Anaphora makes a narrative.
Every risk a colorfield.”
— Laura Wetherington & Hannah Ensor / “Feel Fragments”
thee istsfor manity reader 