We carry
our bones in this sarcophagus of stone throw skin. Rainbow daubed shadows walking the cobbled together streets. I allow my silhouette to overlap someone else’s, that shallow embrace of lost worlds, is the overlap of absence. We wave across the river, a pair of invisible paper cups and an anchor string tethering our make believe words. We wander this trail of closed doors looking at paintings taped to windows. This roofless gallery is where the signs of life bloom, a rootless bud rising, from our isolation tomb. We scrub ourselves down and raw, before we check pulse and pressure. All these hand clapped gowns doing double shifts, the duet of time unfolding paper plane lungs
Poem contributed by Daniel Duggan.
Photo by Ray Fragapane on Unsplash
