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Christine Kanownik

A Spectacle

 

Is there someone you love now? A message

that won’t listen to you tell it. I am burning

but where are my children? burning

asking. She looks for them forever—just look at

her veins. With all-over illustre. How will they

hold us? How can they keep us from finding

holding each other? I’ve met the horse you rode

in on. I’ve met your incorrigible past horse. Seeping

mud in the burning horse. Meeting in the future.

You’ve left your children with their horse-mothers.

You know them well.

 

 

 

As I Wait On

 

I am the sound of nightingales

      meeting you here

chattering like the sound

    your evidence makes

like the frivolity of evil

like the birth of a larger evil

ungainly and irrelevant

      reconfiguring 10

cobras with only the slightest

amount of distraction

or

not distracted at all

             content with my best late

agonies and the rumbling

      river that’s at the heart

of every sudden disappearance

 

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