• Lena Drake

When the sun is constant

Updated: Aug 31, 2021



Nothing breathes here, not the way you're supposed to

where you give back what you take in.

The air is sticky, the sky is wet.

The sun is tireless, the earth exhausted.

All the living is done beneath solid ground

away from her prideful, orange eyes.

When your body cries out, nobody will hear it

besides the beetles and the dirt.

The closer you get to the sky, or the sun, or god, you realize nothing is miraculous

only constant.

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