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I. Chicago I

  • Megan Hanson
  • Feb 26, 2016
  • 1 min read

My bedroom window is barred keeping

Everything but flies out

Sluggishly scavenging for carcass

They hover over me

They don’t know

That I’m not dead yet

My sweat smell of saliva

My sweat smells of fear

My pilgrimage so close to theirs

A feverish climb toward something

Anything

This town will eat me alive

I came singing

The praises of my temple

Guided to instinct like a caged animal

My first day here

I thought you would kill me

I’m still convinced that

You

Are simply

Waiting

For the right opportunity

 
 
 

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