NaPoWriMo Day 17: Horizon

In summer, when the days are still cool
when the dew still lives on the blade
of grass, I sing, bristling with
electrified hairs, stars which are noted,
somewhere, lost.

The feet keep the beat
and the breath the bass
for that is the sound
that the body makes.

We live in decay
not rotten or time
but Hades’ lady
who has come home.

Of shadow’s embraced
are all incomplete-
the use of white paint,
the light at your feet,

walk on the side
away from all motor cars
exhales a gas that
to our lungs, bring scars.

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