Atlas and Alice, Issue 16
Jessica Anne Robinson
spring thaw (ii) i am craving spring like a dead lung / swallowing sun like dew, sucking leaves off eyes closed and daydreaming sounds of rushing water when i pass the dirty glacier streams still frozen to the face of sloping lawns. i’m in the doorway watching albums / only peaches, and yellows, and greens. really i / just want to sit in a cemetery where i’m not expected to remember, where the yellow grass might be mistaken for light if your head is not preoccupied. sure, it’s romantic: the feeling of carrying fruit out in the open. it’s an awful lot easier to feel the beat of the ecosystem when the ground has thawed and there’s peat on the ass of your jeans.
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