dog says, we’re stronger in packs by Jacklyn Janeksela

go to the nearest cemetery/pluck flowers, unearth blades of grass from their roots, collect tree branches/from the graves of women/sew it all together with strands of your own hair/set it on fire under a new moon/watch the moon laugh/watch the moon headless, faceless/gouged she breeds bird egg and seed/black, she silos flight

go to the nearest cemetery/collect dirt in glass jars/care for them like honey/label them/names whispered in the beak of a robin/or the breast/capture them in potted water/cured, not pickled

go to the nearest cemetery/wade knee-deep in a grave/murmur/sigh/become/then unbecome/make love to suspended atoms/make love to displaced energies/pipe blood through a tree vein/willowy if possible/beckon the army/sharpen tooth and axe/billow the clouds round/ready or not/ sky fissures, color of capillaries, color of freedom/all red, all scarlet

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2 Comments

  1. […] Word For/Word, Literary Orphans, Pank, Split Lip, Landfill, Yes Poetry, feelings, Heavy Feather, The Opiate, Potluck, Vending Machine Press; Civil Coping Mechanism anthology A Shadow Map & Outpost 19 […]

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