Released


by Thoithoi O’Cottage

a lemon being squeezed
juice sluicing into a glass

whirling wheels of a flying cart
behind hooves hammering into the dust
mud
stone
and grass

The steppe is green and vast
with an endless horizon
under the clear, blue sky

He has come far –
opens his fist
and goes the puff of wind off, free –
gone

The calloused palm remains ever open
never to close again

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