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Brianna Flavin

Wilderswil

 

Alpen lodge collapsing

doubt whistling

in the edges

I tried to run but was

caught each night

by stars over Wilderswil

 

who gave me apple cakes to eat

who gave me chocolate

melted with mercury who

taught me to trust thinning floors

of abandoned houses like nothing

would ever crack beneath us

swallow us in an intake

of breath

 

like a mouse I found my way

through upper floors

found a boy to lie with there

to knot my hair around his fingers

lodged in an open throat

of wind flayed like all

was fucked from the beginning

something off in the stars

who saw everything over Wilderswil

who took us down the avalanche trail

ensuring our lives from

towns set like traps beneath us

 

I hoped it was benevolence

in the snow that hadn’t

swallowed me yet I hoped

doubt blew in to keep me awake

where frost finds all who fall asleep

I married that boy who is knotting

my hair into a net beneath us beneath us

 

 

Boreal (spider)

 

 

I pulled a blue note flat from water,

one framed pane of lake

 

with knitting-needle legs

and my body’s blood-yarn, fairer

 

than lace, heady as it stretched

from me.

 

Imagine—all your thought

swirling to rope in your belly, the coils

and knots it makes.

 

Imagine rigging up the map

of your mind and snagging

landscape.

 

I wanted that job to do every night

by silence and spruce needle,

 

to be stung by morning, at the center

of myself written-out,

trembling.

 

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