There is an undertone,
Always, dark, brazen,
Throbbing, a current, a river,
Dirty water in a frozen city,
No one sees it but everyone knows
It’s there—distinct, fresh, flowing,
Pristine in its total calamity.
I am the keeper of my own tide.
You are the chosen tilt of the moon.
Together we navigate this lean,
This life conjoined by an undertone,
This current, this invisible force.
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