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Picture
Picture
Picture
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 desires dimmed
tilted out pale lines
drafted on ceiling tiles--
so many unforeseen
lines on our faces,

after the back gate
has slammed
and since 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 thought,

after again dread reconstitutes
loss, blooming, you radiate strength in the
shouldering shivering exiled say in days’
wait, despite
cost ever-deepening.

And so, immense, shade looms in
rustling, later (having)
             felt hands to
witness yet proofs of
their agency, yearned
bitten lips, nibbled lobes
open yet
learning yet thoughts
and their laughters out
over the vault, sprawling wild
skies of tomorrow’s

March: “May we
labor through grief
wrought by thieving elite
toward triumph and feast,
and night’s unbroken sleep.”
Picture
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  • HOME
  • WINTER 2022 ISSUE
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP