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Liz Hildreth

I’M NOT SO WORRIED ABOUT IT

 

Look up, aperture,

I did my best. 

 

My hands, the wringing,

we did what we could.

 

I called you and couldn’t

leave a message.

 

I don’t understand messages.

Misunderstood impulse, yes.

 

Buffalos mount buffalos

on perilous ledges

 

not because it’s nature

but because it’s thrilling

 

to make something

singular and semi-permanent

 

explode

from a high place.

 

All I ask

is remember.

 

I don’t care

for forgiveness.

 

Forgive that, 

forgive nothing.

 

I smell like 

this.

 

My last and most honest gesture was 

this.

 

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