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Epilogue
In August, you were real and unreal. Lying on the floor in sticky heat, I wrote lines to you in my head, Crossed them out. As summer slipped I sensed the shape of you in fever dreams. I told my friends it’s like living with a ghost. Counting the days until October, When…
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Varasani and her worn heart
“Every city has a heart. Unheard but never voiceless. Unpolished but never dirty. A thief you can call by her name.”
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Atlas
Tired, exhausted, spent. Atlas fails, his shoulders relax, the mighty stone slips, and goes tumbling. It scratches the land, denting the mountains, before crashing into western sea. He stands there trembling, covering his head. – He waits a day. But the sky isn’t falling. Liars! he sneers, stretching his ruined…
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She is such a sad girl I don’t know what to do with her
In my dream I was making you pasta & nothing bad had happened to us yet you smiled and told me you would take these multivitamins & forget me. In my dream I booked a flight to wherever you were & my visa expired as I stepped out the door so I unplugged the…
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Yellow Bike
Going everywhere on that little yellow bike. To the base of mountains and looking up at the boundary where snow becomes rain. Retreat just below treeline on account of distant thunder. On the downhill a pebble could mean disaster, but make s-turns: wide and coltish. The chain whines and grates and spits out flecks of…
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The Scorpion
(1) My roommate stirs. Her alarm rings at 9 AM, and she hastily turns it off to avoid waking me. My half-waking dreams are all the possible ways the email I sent last night could be answered. They range from “We’re sorry to hear you felt that way” to “Well, it wouldn’t have ended this…
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Do Men Even Use The Bathroom?
Not the way we do. As a refuge, as a moment of silence, as an interlude through mirrors, through cold. As a breathless moment with which to blot on two coats of lipstick and splash cold water on the cheekbones. As an enclosure– as four walls, however flimsy, between which one can perform a range…
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A Lunch Date
A green restaurant, any time, really. Cigarettes on the ground outside, Sticky floors and fuzzy black mats. Customers scattered like seeds, Two clumped at the bar. Squeaking seats, a shared Shirley Temple. Salads and sandwiches drifting from Table to table and conversation wafting. A few smiles. Suddenly, She laughs, and It’s like the…
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what do you get a man for his birthday
what do you get a man for his birthday “what is your love language?” father hugged me mother kissed me that is what you say when you don’t know how to love. I never had my room four eyes blinked at the ceiling. was this how I loved? the wings of fireflies and between stolen…
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воскресенье
the sun sets its sorry self behind the dining hall & the clouds above the roof are pink like gently-used gauze. i close my eyes and try to remember how it feels when things are beautiful. on the widow’s walk at the tail end of may we held our breath. the sky lay with its…
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namo buddha
the other night i dreamed of a door that opened to a hill on a hill with one thousand prayer flags tied to the trees and the sun burning the earth making your lips shine iridescent with spit or something else entirely and you telling me you’re thirsty yes i know but for all the…
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Quiet Soul
I am the empty stadium in your dreams, warmly lit by orange peel flowers, domes flaring. My flesh swells in Quiet bloom. To see the infinitive ceiling while it’s dry, I jump into the hole of the Joyceian dog’s nose. It sniffs the citrus of stars and children, imperiled, Quiet below. I float…