Harare

Which

like ashified time

and fallen off years

I dream of.

Sadness war cries

my horizon and

dagger stabs my skin.

Beneath a whirring fan

which blows your tears

my hands shape comfort,

holding air.

You are a ghost of

a memory I never had,

leaving no trace on your face

even though now

all is the time there is-

everything runs riot.

for 8

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