N ATA L I E H O M E R
Fear of Loss at Any Moment The iris spends itself in one afternoon, ivy and mosquito bubble my skin with their common poisons, and I wonder when this fragile happiness I’ve spun for myself will collapse. Stay close I urge the young rabbit as he nears the road. Is he the same one on the lawn each abalone evening? Last night, in the dream, it felt so good to be held. I succumbed immediately.
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C A R O L I N A Q U A R T E R LY