Arrested between dusk and evening
having returned
I was another woman
before they told a story of succumbing
and I undid them
and myself
and yet I became one
that diverged from the direction
the gun was fired

It is grey the space between
succumbing and revival
the crested wave a monument of other
generations’ gas,

and your lost children climb for the top of the wall
and scramble your history in pixels
its knowledge a Socratic nightmare
love fiercely from our blue cocoons

as we claw at our keyboards
we are clawing at the walls
of the matrix in which we are expressed
built by wars and hunger and the perpetuation
of all of this