The Book of Nights
Again, wind drags the alphabet of nothing
half-heard whispers that seize the dark
the body’s assent to drowning,
grind the heart to such friction that it scalds,
Far away, a girl in a rust-crazed city laughs
hair she’s combed a thousand times
placed a dull green light in her mouth.
save a steady unraveling, the ways
of rivers and blossoms to the source of any
|No. 12 - Fall 2013
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