sound of static from the mouth hole


again, the word ‘gathered.’

you say, ‘imagine not knowing it.’ and continue speaking, this time in language. i still hear your static, somewhere back beyond your voice, the past lurching into the ongoing now, layered into. this is happening on the shoreline. we sit on folding chairs in rows, four across seven deep. myoclonic twitch in the torso and saltwater laps our shoes. how long will we wait here on our chairs as the sky deepens?

how many of we have all been ‘battered by deep water’
‘in the open part’ or in secret.


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