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Gillian Kayrooz

At the Peak of Tenjinyama: 

Beads trickle down before I swipe them away into the back of my palm

I disintegrate into the bed, as it sinks to the floor

together we produce one audible exhale

the way the leaves collide with the wind is unbelievably reminiscent of home

not to mention the distant and scattered roars of exhaust pipes,

that carry to my room

a second in delay

I am exhausted and uncomfortable, however the weather comforts me the same way my

clothes do

freshly packed from home

It takes a matter of a week, a longer than I expected,

but now I am more than settled

I have drank, bathed and washed from the water of this neighbourhood

I forget ‘that’ feeling and begin to reside

amid this humid summer,

amongst the trees

at the peak of Tenjinyama

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