“Orire”—— a poem by Brooke Boddie

The sun didn’t come out today.

I guess it was finished with appearances.

Maybe it grew tired of being seen

Without actually being seen.

Tired of the same old, same ole

In need of a new narrative.

Done with living in the present,

In the presence

Of human beings who walk around asleep

with their eyes open.

Maybe someone out their will catch the glance of one of your three eyes

Strike you as dangerously alluring.

Alive. Awake. Aware

The supreme.

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