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“Still” – Acta Victoriana, 2018

Walk deeply across black sands before sunlight
Padded toes against weather-worn edges,

it’s almost embarrassing
to hold yourself above experience.

Faith is chance and charming,
you forget, palm entering the white air before your body,

a new path every time, you think
you come here to be.

You are not lost in art, here
the stills are in your cells

inked in the white of your eyes
and the shadow your laugh leaves in cluttered photos.

There is sound when you move over the rocks
Existence knows the whine of your energy

and delivers inside this dead channel, white and
bottomless. It’s pitiful to want to transfer the

tableau onto any old stained wall.
You know this, you hope something sharp will cut your foot,

make you feel divine
and dark in equal measure