Scrubbed Clean

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scrubbed clean,
the blue sky
scrapes
black space

and wind fills my face,
raises me to heights
beyond fear, beyond
siren-calls

at crossings
unstoppable
as ancient trains glide,
inexorably
grinding
fate;

but higher I’ll fly,
beyond the stench of ruin.

foul grief cannot follow
to where I’ll go, lifted
by the constant,
immaculate
wind.

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