I’m on my way
one line spinning
towards the door,
highway a camera,
the call to weep,
a closeup in contrast
to dawn.
What’ve we got?
A body at harsh angles,
awkward surroundings.
In the water,
distinctive wounds,
the girl’s wrist.
Who is she?
Face into view,
examine details.
Seeing her back
you want to turn,
a shy position.
Waiting on the edge,
we haven’t touched anything.
Our heads down,
the grasp of a girl’s end
passes above
as we back down.
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