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I echo the late light
with all its honest
flourishes catching
on the drops of gold
on my pierced earlobes
forged by the jeweler
in the shape of sea shells
24-karat memories
of songs of oceans
come in a velvet box
and to conclude another
conversation with evolution,
I wear them unabashedly,
now. I’ve also learned
to poise my body
in the chair sideways just so
and smile properly
for photographs.

Still I chase the belated light,
colors of 6:05 crooning
as they lean against boundaries
between desire and regret
and clip their tresses up
to greet the descending hours.

I have a story
and I will tell it
if only because
I have the option not to.
And it will not be like
this waning light that tomorrow
will be regurgitated from
the bowels of night.
Feet and fossils
will overrun it and no,
I will not wait for
the tree to fall before
I ask whether someone heard.

“Sunset Street” by photographer Denis Allbertovich