I have an ocean in my
handkerchief,
Of stories untold
Hidden in the dark
pocket,
The cotton skeleton
A rubbernecker of insolence,
of cruelty and deforested thoughts!
You are telling me to wash
it dry, to make it shine again?
I’d hold it against
the wind and let the tales go
Of no use at all, to
none of those blinded ears;
Yet it had spots
bolder than words,
Footprints more
telling than the ink,
What it did; died...
Empty winds! With you
take them all
Let it live with me, I
would wash it clean.
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