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  • keliciahollis


Listen to this poem on episode 18 of the podcast.

Silences pierced by hic cup ping sobs.

words falter into sighs.

Shifty glances from onlookers wanting to

help or at least to know

why? Overcast.

Downpour of slick tears onto

enflamed nostrils congested and straining.

Comforting words difficult to process.

Bursting veins of boiling red paint

little curves and twists

into normally white viewing vessels.

Mourning. Loss anger pain

And life goes on and life goes on but

we stop anyway.

And when we’ve dried the slippery roadways traced onto flushed faces,

some will move on.



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