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Emily Jern-Miller

broken sentence of knots and polite whales

Resemble a season, ink filled coliseum, your sternum
quieting spotted pause.

Breath, when held, exists outside
the ten million colors distinguished by a human eye.
Certain words look better when spoken
around a bend as a quail figurine altering

itself in a tunnel outshines every resting spoon.
Stones, they say, accumulate warmth

known as wealth or active listener when held
tightly. I farmed across the creek

and on the other side your flight muscle
a misfit species befriending leaves.


stationary where e is yellow

among every other turned syllable
equally yellow.
We’re standing with our heads
tilted barely downward, an angle
reminding us of the word “metallic”
despite the gauze of sunset.
Drastic to call a gaze meaningful
after frequent mishandlings,
poor saddlery. Certainly
we are equipped with chords
for words to tug. “Metallic” rings
watching particular setting
while this feeling atop this feeling.

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