at the base of a river
jutting into white-capped mountains?
will the air ever be completely still?
where sound can't move.
we will touch
not speak.
we will hold
not listen.
only then, the sun can hit
my face without me shrinking
spiders can crawl over
my toes without me screaming
and we can both touch my pit
without cowering behind
the guiding forces of hands
who surely know better
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