We’re leaving. It is a word
Whose shroud is the meaning
Of ‘life’ and ‘home’, it dwells
In the ancestor’s story,
Upon whose floors
The denizens of breath
Are built, compact,
And stored; this non-sequitur
Is the leader of ‘sudden’ and ‘sundry’,
Laundering the self, and keeping just
The thought and not the floor.
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