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Brian Foley

Here I Don’t Come

 

A tremulous snow

In my mouth

 

I turn my head

& cough

back your shape

 

into the damp

unspoken

lack of place

 

purple as a

splinter up-

on your lip

 

to tongue

the empty

longitude

 

underneath

the belly

singing to fit 

« Emily Kendal Frey | Contents | Carla Lake »