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by Yemọja Jade 11 months ago in surreal poetry

A poem

Photo by Ahmed Adly on Unsplash

She’s limp on his body, this moment in a Death-smeared home - an embrace - though

I’ve come to love the exchange of bodies.

At the entrance door to the dead

is where mirroring begins and not before.

What god would hear my prayer?

You without you - imagine.

Rightly I salute you gone before you

and the music-makers and the celebrators

now without you Now she is

a hollow spirit - the most faithful woman one could harness,

riding the path of the wind to where great ideas lay,

safe, boxing the prize,

gone before you

surreal poetry

Yemọja Jade

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