© 2019 Orris Root

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[sunsets are long here]

sunsets are long here. the light

lingers like color or memory, horizon

farewells a verbular concept of receive and receive and

tide speaks in tongues of legume

syllabic and strange. metaphor learned to be just

itself.

 

            i wish awash too,

tearful too, claw into sweater to keep

your smell a little as if

my fingers can hold time

rope burns also. truths of birth told

ocean old blurble into excitement on my lap

what if

there is nothing more important

 

inheritance feels like a peach streaked sky

turned inside out too

terrified to let

dreams of grass

and starlight. a gift of blood and sorrow

and my lips cannot form the word precious or

call you anything but mine

 

history: the seagull copulating

with night. sacramented repetition

need, perception-soiled and finally

perfect. good enough for now. and now. and now

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