terrible men stood over us
looking at the pages pecking out
one letter after another
you could have gone through alone
but they refused our altered papers
we were neither afraid
nor fraught with innocence
and its own perfection
for a day maybe two
they turned the leaves this way and that
without resolution
not long after we changed distilled
into an elixir of June and the end
was exquisite
if I knew how I would revise
those winter hours leaving just a sliver
of spring somewhere in between
(c) 2020 by Hannah Six
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