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a credence :: danielle legros georges

by on April 2, 2016

Those who best love freedom
are those who are not free
or those who were not free
or those who could not be.

The prison. The real cell.
The bars of one’s own
making. The scars, and flesh
beneath still quaking.

The dire need to breathe.
The stars and sky on fire.
Seed and pyre. The turning,
turning all to dust. The air.

A hole bored through
a tent’s blue ceiling.
The sky reeling.
Reeling.

Will. Force. The thing
that will not let you die.
A million, million, million
whys. An absence

of antecedents. A frankness.
A tension. A craggy flower
rough blossom, repeating.
Repeating.

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