It hurts my bones to love you.
It hurts to see the bottle-brush needles
like dried blood on the ground.
It hurts to drive in circles round my suburb
named for ashes on a field…

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It hurts my bones to love you.
It hurts to see the bottle-brush needles
like dried blood on the ground.
It hurts to drive in circles round my suburb
named for ashes on a field…
I see us
in the curve of our love,
kissing in the sunlight
in a park…
I try I pull my children
from the city
and its viral air,
but they live
like rebels
saying no,
maybe, it’s ok…