The voices we hear that are not there…

Closing in the

voices sound in the distance

like Champaign glasses clinking


as if a connection

and yet dust is all we hear.

Does the dust change anything in

the end?

floating like sparking diamonds

in the fresh sunlight

lifting into the air

as though able to fly

settle back not where they were but

in the end a new place

grimy and covered

each one unique

but no one ever looks

it is in that we find the voices.

Empty and hollow we hear them

like Champaign glasses they clink and chime

far away

more than far away

not infinite but

impossible to bridge

from the dust to the voices

a gap

a chasm.

We trudge off into the

dust filled sunlight


What could have been?


Sandler Boggs

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