Whenever the girl speaks, the boy’s eyes
from before his birth, as if in a dream
and told him the story of the mountain,
The boy knows the girl, the woman,
unwavering shadow. He knows the crows
and he knows the characters of fire
and the mountain itself. As if the girl threw
an inheritance of words. The boy was born
and bone—but he’s changed the story
and none of the tellers knows how it ends.
|No. 12 - Fall 2013
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