Claudia Serea

What was that you said?

At crossroads,

look ahead.

 

Your whisper draws an arrow to follow

on the cold window

 

and my dreams flap in the wind,

shirts on a clothesline

strung between skyscrapers.

 

The moon falls from one pocket.

 

Lucky penny,

I fall, too.

 

From one life

into another.

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 96
Not Even Playing

 

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