Written by Callan Latham – Instagram: @callanwrites


I start on the edge. From now on,
I am moving. Getting to know the 
water under me, collecting like nickels 
at my feet. We never rust in this lifetime. 

I am a wealthy woman when it comes to 
nothingness. And the train speeds past me. 
It leaves me on the glass, a reflection of past 
self standing still. It sends a lick of fog into 
me, clouds my brain with abandonment. 

I think of the times the sun was 
too beautiful to look at. My body 
sticks against the horizon, an invitation 
for heavens to grow in odd ways, 
a mutation of light against the spine.

I think of myself as a lost place, 
a relic too human to last. 
My mouth opens to the sky’s sound, 
humming a flame of morning. 

I watch for hours, stuck on the other side 
of the glass. I wait for the ruins to pass, 
but they just keep coming.

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