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  • Writer's pictureJakob Dittmar

Creeper

Right into the dark hole of night

we move,

what a prospect –

whose claim?


No security,

no canary,

our future is a seam

of – not necessarily –

excrement.


Possibly

somebody downed a golden coin.


Okay –

you can trade that against something

comforting.


But beware!

Open fire might blow

your habitat.


Written by Jakob Dittmar.

Cover photo by Enjy Ashour.


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