Poetry by Tim Suermondt

We grew up in the village of peas,
exchanging vows in the smallest
city hall ever built by man.
On a train we ran away to the city,
forever. Skyscrapers guarded over us
and our bookshelf always had room
for more books—the erotic, intelligent
moon determined to read every one.
We watched an entire decade wish us
well, dancing like quicksilver along
the daunting edge of the suspension
bridge, holding the future as close as
we held ours...


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