In The Morning
In the morning we will twist our hair in auspicious knots,
Glass: These words, shatter, repulse.
Damn these holdings, insolent, forgotten.
You carry meaning like a swift change of glance.
A camel's sunset.
We will die for our fortunatly named children;
And the disection of memories which will begin in just a-few-minutes.
Weight of differences, Let it out now.
Sebastian JohnstonLindsay's Other Poems
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