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Or I could write about white-tailed doe,
baby of the family still trying to suckle,
Mother Daughter Discussion Read More »
The last thing I drank was clear.
The number of times I’ve had
to repeat this reproduces, every
The Last Thing I Drank Was Clear Read More »
Upon finding an old cemetery
Some of these
stones are small
and unmarked—
it must have been
a family plot—yet
I called it “The Dichotomy,”
not because I knew someone
had already used the title
(that was after I wrote what I wrote)
but because I loved the word—
the way it tore itself apart
Freedom means choosing your light, picking which part of the day means most, rising with mourning doves and dew, or
I yanked the fragment from my eye, through burst blood vessels glimpsed clearly the one still in yours, jutting through