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After work, I ride the train home

Donika Kelly

On the train, sentences of disaster form—

unform: endings running like a river

to estuary to gulf. Won’t it come,

though, in water, fire, or wind, a hand closed

or opened? No matter but material.

No time but seconds passed, the present

downstream. On the train I say I know why

I am here. To love you in this the only

second of life we have for certain.

A second life, not halved but doubled,

the doubling mitotic, exponential.

I was wrong about the form. I arrange

sentences like snow and wait, restless

under my own hand. O it’s all water now.


Part of 'In the Beginning of Covid-19', a series of poems curated by Jason Dodge in 2020

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