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We lived to build it, not to live,
And once the rafters were in place we added filigree,
Reliefs: two travelers dismounting
From a single horse. The rooms accumulated
And their edges wore away—
The lining iridescent, water-smooth.
We knew that hunger is a way of persons outside windows
The entering takes away
But we had no entrance as we had no map
For how it grew. Two travelers.
A trail widening to a road, a thoroughfare: beyond—
Edge of the water, broken shells.
When we had all the room we'd ever need
We imagined a grain of sand.
Rubbed it, held it in our mouths until it gained
A luster: moonlight on the abraded
Surface of the water and the horse
Impatient as we stood aside, apart, creating
The exterior inside.
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Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.
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