When “Us” starts singing
to a you and a me:
Nature leans forward
on her swaying pulpit
to deliver a furious, green sermon.
Church
starts coming to us.
When “Us” starts singing
to a you and a me:
Prayers seem painfully manufactured—
like a mortician struggling
with a shattered face.
Religion?
A frozen smile.
When “Us” starts singing
to a you and a me:
A magnificent muteness
blazes like the full moon
in every eye.
I love you?
Overworked poetry.
When “Us” starts singing
To a you and a me:
Gossip glimmers
like the surface of a pool
rumored to be bottomless.
My opinion?
To curious to stay afloat.
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