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October 28, 2008 at 9:42 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

 

And the roof, which is really

not there open to the sky

with blue clouds. The walls,

painted green a ghost in

nobody’s halls of time.

Nobody lives here.

This sunk ship, this bleeding

heart, these broken walls

that open nowhere, home.

 

– Dominic Alapat 

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