one more day

look in the eyes
or in those moments
the subdued sighs
no one knows
how they might survive
even one more day
four more hours
two more hours
counting down
to its end
and tho
we wonder
some way, we muddle through
the moil
until that day comes upon us
which none shall survive
and at that moment
when the rusted keyhole closes
leaving us
locked inside
our silence
we might find
what we’ve always known
that there’s nothing else–
and the gravestones
in the still fields
tilt and lean
under a flickering sun
as the years pass
pushing up
through the clover
so slowly
as to be

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