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14. the mesh of a contusion 
 

 
i. 

 
the heat of your hormones beats through well-worn trails, tigers 
push through weak bivouacs.  an opportunity to catch a dragonfly 
 
arises, drawn irresistibly like a kite pulled to its grounding.  natural 
as an outbreak of brushfire, you caress her white skin feeling as if 
 
your world had never ended the first time.  tendrils turning towards 
her sun, burning as if molten gold filled your cavity, you yearn to 
 
drench your incandescent center in her timeless tides.  your mind's 
eye erases our sketches, the dandelion seed is supplanted.  you are 
 
engulfed as if rising through loaves of bread, only to crash into a
detailed picture of pale sunrise hair, near an aquiline face.  her 
 
eyes are like the skies in heaven, but her laugh will be 
sharp hoes, cutting rows in your gentle landscape. 
 
 
 
ii. 
 
 
this spider's gossamer unspins, an orbit corrupts.  a starling
falters and plummets towards earth, the wide ocean.  sight

fades gray like a cat's paw, creation's air rushes out of this compressed
chamber.  ground crumbles into spineless fossils, time holds still like a

lingering reflection of late sun on steel green buildings.  morphine
can hardly quell the phantom limb, pictures curl, ochred on carpet 
 
in abandon.  a swan lake dancer became disabled from your steps that
nightfall.  cinderella was only a poor girl after all.  my mind's 
 
engravings rotate in a museum's halls, lying in bed, waiting to die  
takes longer than all afternoon.  there was a vacuum waiting to be 
 
unsealed, tomblike.  dust of the ages will rise and spell 
the same story, written in more than three languages. 



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