22

We are the hosts of these ghosts
hidden in clenched teeth biting 
wild tongues that pine and rage saying
“not today, not today.”

We are the keepers of these keys
maintaining rebel elephants 
wishing for freedom’s breeze, 
achieved but lost in twig and twine.

We are the architects of this aching space
made up of shadows and echoes 
gray and gutted of our presence 
long before the “miss and love you”s were.

We are the poison to our own youth
withering, aging with necks twisted back
wishing, begging to see moon beams
while the sun promises a new day.

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