Olivia & Hale

Free Verse ReVolution

This is the legend of a boy and his ghost,
and the girl he was not supposed to cross stars

This is a map whose roads
all lead to myth,
Valhalla of visceral dreams
and Reapers whose screams
volunteer its vistas to
defy deliverance.

This is a song that will
never belong,
a story of the closest
purgatory you could
ever lay

A challenge left by
death’s talons,
to navigate their mortality;

twenty-eight iterations
of pain,

whether by
bullet or blade, cross
fire or bad aim,
sickness and shame;
a suicide in every name
they make natal.

Dying their cradle in
reincarnates’ graves,
promised a wage of
returning to consciousness in
the age they call home.

If their souls had not broke,
Valhalla said,
O City of
the Dead, on atolls of Hale’s
dread and Olivia’s soft cries.

If you can die exactly
twenty-eight times and not…

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