A Surging Season

Somewhere, but not here,
you stand with me amidst the
sangria stars of Biseulsan
in a season of surging.

With sealed eyes we attend to the
coordinated calls of gaudy magpies.
Hovering harbingers fill us with fear for
we do not understand their warning.

Then, you begin to sing Albert’s song.
His words are stitched into your mouth
yet you still stumble upon the shore.
I do not understand your warning.

I reach for your hand, but find you gone again,
soaring far and wide in search of glittering orbs.

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