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Apr 2022
Down the dumps

Fog everywhere, walking on a mass of corpses
sludge of rotting flesh, sinks deeper into arms and legs
embracing me like I should be one of them.
Swam ashore in the lake of loss, soup of death
banks of bones.
A woman in white helped me up; she too
a haze and disappeared.
Totter in a desert of nothingness, heard footsteps
death wanted me to return to the lagoon of
reconstructed dreams.
Heart pounding, but there, the horizon’s dawn
the sun of life warmed my face if only briefly.
The sky rained the blood of the evicted.
Drops of rubies, in each one, the nucleus of me
lies and delusion engraved.
jan oskar hansensapopt
65
   Don Bouchard
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