Poetry

in a jungle of few

thrust into the waves;
a baby sea turtle shouldn’t
have to be so brave.
to backstroke
through the
city streets:
it made me lean,
indifferently mean,
made me miss green
sleeves and citrus trees.
i shout on walls, i cry on cement,
my canvas is anyone
impatient enough to listen.
i dodge yellow beasts
and sharp claws
desperate for their next
meal. i roar in
a jungle of few too many
and not enough
with beating hearts…

 

 

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