A deficiency of color.
Blurs of boys broken over time’s slippery slopes.
Describing the impossible.
The humblest humiliation.
A funeral for the future.
The witch’s familiar – unfamiliar even to her – pretends to
the throne of the middle kingdom. The middle
kingdom waits for the future and past to collide and create a coliseum of the
contemporary. An arena worth of the
contest to settle the matter of majesty.
And all is held a loft, suspended without time, teetering toward it when
the now favored familiar ascends and claims the throne.
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