alfie lee writing


running up that hill

shafts in ground, broom the air, trees-
swept bird flecks, bristling clean
and feather dusted, trails of due over dew.

every start takes you farther in yet farther
away, out of the question, the answer's
in the task, posting more asks than last.

rule of the road, tape to topography,
each pound uphill steps back to bone, jars
brining, steep in the unknown.


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