Washington, D.C.

Torn between life and living –
I chose life, and here I have it.

I came for the cherry blossoms,
laid down in the pencil-shaped shadow

of the namesake. It was four
in the afternoon for hours. I woke

up that night covered in dew. Repenting,
as soon as a store opened, I bought a tie.

Years, laws, my wife, all passed,
and so did I, but barely.

Some places are in-between,
some people are places.

– Betsy Walls

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Filed under Poetry, Vol 1 Issue 3

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