"It's twelve but not twelve
the breath between
speak and hear
pin and blood
reach and touch
God and answer
skin memory of rough sand on dirty feet
yet now in air
still to drown
widening of blue and horizon
spinning down
wait
less
time
i hold your breath
a poem boils below the skin
and you...
exhale
twelve
touch
poem
drown"
-kevin rolly
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