Rising action, rising tensions
into whirls of metallic drums
drumming out of sync,
stamped out into a moment of fighting
pink tings, pink up. Why,

mesmerized under blends
we can’t find the strings to tune
the right way, strings when
rubbed against
makes friction sound soft
and drawn out humidity

like some memory of you, samba
beneath low-hung moon–Not
a sun-worshipper, worship
drinking spending every catch like
a catch requiring release:
regulations for regulation,
everything we are

when the time comes, dangerous sun light
delicate sun rise
we will take you for a loop
on a loop, flower petals
unfolding over
pink petal.


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