Spelling the Game
by Joseph Veronneau



Our breaths
in collusion with the moon
formed high arching sighs,
quickly becoming
cavities of the air between,
catching the indelible scent-
the sting in my eyes.

Collaborative vertebrae
contort and break again
to reform the essence within,
rearrangement of sound-
to become iconic
as an angel in silence.

Invisible of our own device
we cling to the ever-changing
infinity, counting the possibilities
of the possible.

On finality of release
the letters become
more clear, a slower
pacing
toward the grasp
through open palms,
untightening shadow beside
the other, breaking away
like continents, only to become
familiar again.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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