Poetry · Writing

trojan horse

we fall

we rise

we find each other at the bottom

it’s not where we started but we here

here at a fountain;

throwin’ dimes

wishin’ for a miracle:

feedin’ weedin’ threw the muk at the bottom

can i get a dolla fifty?

fifty begging for air


we got here

out of the weeds

through the open doors

into a day

where we could breathe fresh air

where the mornings are filled with jelly toast and cartoons

where the nights are not filled with open prayers and sealed letters

and this is Troy

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