ask what is possible in the world,
a place where alt-night is always right,
the sky robbed of color, call it alt-white.
The day’s lure, an olive branch,
once a gesture of peace, or surrender.
Fennel lines. He is an interloper, not a refugee.
When did we become refugees in our own country?
In our eyes, held hostage to the skies, blue eyed sons.
It takes such strength in order to be kind.
10/17
10/17
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