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POEM: *solitude


slumped over in the bathroom stall
hand against my forehead
I can see the pulse beating in my wrist

in my threadbare purple costume
I’m surprised to see proof of life
that’s what the cops call it, right?

when someone is taken hostage
the family doesn’t pay the ransom
until there’s a sign the abductee still lives

what’s my sign?
these words, dreamed up in the only part
of this building that allows for a moment of*

/ / /

Jason Crane
3 February 2020
State College PA

Published in My poems Poetry


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