The fifth

Four men stood shoulder-to-shoulder,
secluded behind them was the Artist King—

he who pssst and pst-pssst under pasty light.
He who wove the orange crown with fast bold strokes.
This is the Paris record.

When the sky turns blue, the Others 
will come 
and turn 

words 
into voice.

Dale Chou
2019-11-24