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Poem #15

when i realized i’d never forgive you

when i saw the trumpeter blow the horn, my jericho heart came down, moved from flesh to fluid.

it wasn’t your hand i held, we hadn’t spoken in months, but i’ll admit that part of me pretended you were him, not that you’d know. tendons

flexed as he played the brass, my breath catching as i tried to keep from crying.

how long will it take to forget your hands curling around a bottled neck, ungraciously swigging glass to your lips. you aren’t

graceful, but still i’d rather it be your arms touching mine when the lonesome lows carried us home.

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Striped I fell from a dock in the summer, split my hand open like a ripened fig, blood drip-dropping to ruddy the waves while I gulped down salty red, I swam to shore, hand raised above my head, looki

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