original storypoem w/ accompanied collage art by Jason Hannan
On cusp dusky twilight, periwinkle wide – breaching highest cotton edge, our souls touched.
Tasked selling the Epic Triathloniversary, 45th & not in merchandise mood. I hadn’t been since the indigenous occupants’ diffusing back to their land after stand together.
I heard the Muscogee hymn from Trail of Tears throughout the moon phases & couldn’t cease it. Rattled me like birth.