open palms


we raise our eyes
to sky
and beg the dawn
warm us,
swarm us in a buzz
of long-bewildered
more hope, less sting.

see, here’s the thing:
either way, i’ll stand here
………arms akimbo,
palming psalms.


In November, we poem.



This entry was posted in Poetic Asides Chapbook Challenge 2019, scribbling storms, storms and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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