
I jumped into
the abyss,
and from
the Pit,
sought the start of a moor–
–scrabblin’ through scree, and
leaving lanes
of misrouted memory to
trip up its road
–a longing unwinding—
in a curious hurry
for thinner air.
©Karen Robiscoe

I jumped into
the abyss,
and from
the Pit,
sought the start of a moor–
–scrabblin’ through scree, and
leaving lanes
of misrouted memory to
trip up its road
–a longing unwinding—
in a curious hurry
for thinner air.
©Karen Robiscoe
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