We Are Tourist Here

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 03, 2018

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Submitted: July 03, 2018

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A chair, a table, me;
the place cards are nameless and empty,
an island off the coast of a tourist town,
the mainland is drenched in familiar soles.
Their steps echo in a lullaby,
as a cadence casting leviosa.

I float.

A buoyant stagnation,
being caught in the gaze of the clock moon,
if I don’t blink,
hands might not melt into memory
it can’t sprinkle the hazy wind
the tourists might decide to make their home here.

I float.

Sun begins to hide,
we have reaped that which we sowed,
now anchor tied eyelids,
I blinked.
These tourists are leaving.
This season is ending.

Summer starts in nine days.


© Copyright 2019 Kaleb Lyons. All rights reserved.

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