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Kenn Rushworth
Poems
Jan 2019
The Eye at the Centre of the City
He, she, they,
Called out but once
Into red flowers, gravel paths, and steam,
then resurfaced somewhere in
*
*
Without stepping on the sea
Lost, drinking in a bath of silence,
bleached under fingernails,
and left
The eye at the centre of the city,
where we all have names
but no address
#city
#eye
#isolation
#loss
Written by
Kenn Rushworth
North
(North)
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