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Light Growing Long in the Branches, and I Think
Now, in the era of 
everything aching--
through after hunger
has worn thin, and
ceased to protect us

after desire has dimmed out
and tilted in pale lines
drafted on ceiling tiles

so many unforeseen
lines on our faces
after the back gate
has slammed
and been quieted, long
beyond sacred stains buried
in the new block

after the wet heal
having contributed,
after consent,
and caress (having) met in the
    detonated careless economy
of our lives, (having not)
upon further consideration

you deserve more
than this shouldering exiled
belief in the
world, more
than this
shivering wait

And late rustling shade looms
Immense, having     (or is it early?)
    felt hands and
witness yet proofs of 
their agency, yearned 
bitten lips, still
learning yet thoughts
and their laughter,
nibbled lobes
open yet
to the vault, sprawling vast
skies of tomorrow’s
March:
fear, defeat, grief,
labor, triumph,
and feast.

​
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  • HOME
  • ABOUT
    • SUBMISSIONS
    • IN PRINT
  • OLD LOVERS
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS