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86 Alone in Presence of Air I am speaking today of bridges And swollen voices: The way icicles constantly breed In absence of words. I am speaking of skeletons We now consider broken bones, Sockets of moons, canceled sunsets, And the hungry stench of silence. I am speaking of shafts Separating sun from light: Shapes of distance Only flesh can consume. I am speaking of evenings Only memories now make love to. I am speaking of air, fractured And alone in presence of air. Lately, I have grown away from bodies, Bodies I once thought could be my own. I have watched my selves disappear Like phantoms sprawled and lost In a room of ancient whispers. And I am no longer sure 87 If syllables we once embraced Are asking to be held, Or thrown away and forgotten. Today I can only speak, And leave you nothing more than this: Nothing more than a voice We used to share— A voice Now swollen, frozen In the absence of our words. ...

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