September

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September

 

Scritch of crickets

outside my window

 

When did that all start?

 

I’ve been busy

scratching mosquito

bites into wounds,

picking the scabs

 

Look at the ceiling,

water stained from the

upstairs bath!

 

How to soothe this

itchy masochism?

 

The salve is beyond my

skull-walled house, in the

cricket static of a

September dawn.

 

I must go out there!

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