Poetry from Brianna Dawn.


rulers have the sharpest edges
we are never satisfied – falling
short of tiptoeing along the ledge
of the lines and cliffs we have
sketched for ourselves, bitter
with absence of gratification when
our actions and words are still
out of reach of another person’s
ladder rungs – we are hung up
on skipping stones, counting
numbers upward – leaning
toward the infinite – when,
merely as humans – our only
measures are the breaths
we take in and out within
this very minute

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