Photo by Harry Quan via Unsplash

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Alter Ego

 

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I didn’t know what she was:
that brittle, reed-like,
human-like riddle.
A paper whisper.
A burn.

She made an ark
for a language the color
of loneliness.
Words rushed to her.
So did the clouds.

It was hard to watch her
drown in the rain,
while keeping
my fingers crossed
for the rainbow.

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First published in Miracle Monocle, Issue 12, Spring 2019