From Pittsburgh to Paris by Melissa Jacob

I am not a silent poet

After the sky fell
 .
silent
we resurrected
an accordion
 .
Oh
 .
its cadence pauper
tar and tidal jags
 .
a dead salve for
the redundant
shore line
 .
it was only one
species
 .
one birdsong
 .
We
 .
our kind weep
salt and scree
 .
in time
 .
we will birth tombs
and dance quietly
inside

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