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poetry

2 Poems

When Columbia broke into a burning rain over Louisiana, fell in pieces into a thousand pastures and backyards, my uncle joined the search party. It was not a rescue mission. It couldn’t be.

2 Poems

We know your floors, solid but bowing like centennial splinters, and your resonant moans from the weight of lovers, like caked twigs

2 poems

The moon painted a picture of me and she called it “hay.” The picture is my hair, sliced off from the ears down, tied with rope and slapped onto a clean, metal table.