After "quiet kentish home" by Sean S, "Sweetest Counting" by JKD and "Poem for November" by Rufo Q.
Ours and everyone’s earthquakes may be less
for today's stopped shaking, heaped up.
My chances of survival by definition were defeated
by long-ago radios, the breath of Darwin.
Now, I'm anxious, sorest about the hazardous success
of the upstairs butcher’s shop, that den
of wildness softly pressed
to the ceiling. All ears are not asking to be convinced
as they watch the empire glued to their screens.
It's like nothing had ever burst for them
clear of the forbidden denial.
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