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Holly Amos

New Mythology:  June 13th


I am nighted against you

                                    dark            & solid-seeming

            & here you are moving through my bones


what is the world trying to do

                        what is happening in that eroded sidewalk that means anything

                        that isn’t just a bone without a mouth

a socket left

                        to dry


(Today in the shower.  On the floor beside the shower.  On the sink.

            On the bed. The real thing.  The most real thing I did today—

                                                            I am choosing to locate it.)


If I am located somewhere

let it be somewhere exploding

with electric blue

            your kerosene-flamed belly

                                                where your roots are


(I am trying hard to know which planet is ours, which bitter ground

                                                                        we are leaving from.)


If this place is anything it is where we grew tongues

                                    where we brushed our own eyelids with salt

            & learned how to refocus

                                                it is where my hand caught

your chin & I broke

            my own fingers for flares















City, make me the big promise


that will crush my eyes

where we limp│through your streets

                        in our best boots


                        made of dark matter

the sky is rich with leather streaks


I feel the glitter caught in my throat

   when the rain puts out


all the bright│bright tongues


I don’t know who to look in the eyes anymore


            how to keep fingers│to myself

these tunnels of hair│the myth


about the five senses│city—don’t

look up

nothing’s there but some frozen men

who│once tasted the moon





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