He filled his pockets with stones
to devour alone late at night
when no one near need hear
his tangential confessions.
With so many pockets of guilt
to tuck his scattered bits
of complicity, years crept
past him like mountains,
always present, gnawing
at the horizon’s edge.
He woke into a remorse—
a complex rendering
each day of a single act
no one else remembered.
(May 9, 2023)
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