The tombs take time to trace tracks
to trade tears, to try.
They tally, tally, tinker, twist. Tap together, tally.
Their testimony tumbles temperate to the tenders.
Then two tasteless tongues tip themselves toward the trafficked trails;
trivial, timid treason.
The tombs' terrible transaction takes toll, takes trust, takes time.
The transfer to totality takes time.
About the Creator
Kelsey Thompson
Kelsey Thompson resides in the Washington, DC area and writes about love and confidence.
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