"bishop"
we marched to the water hand in
hand and we howled as wolves
howled inches from the sea. the
bishop pressed his lips to
cold sand and collapsed into the
shape of a pagan constellation.
he,
above all men,
had been planning this for years. shards
of ice carried in
from oceanic waves froze around our bare
skin. each of us lay sprawled across permafrost
laughing and smiling at cross-bearing apparitions.
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