HUSH
August McKernan Imagine:
an image of your lover in relation to nothing. an escherian stairwell embossed in golden
foil, a fervor to light up the brain. Pinprick of heat
then golden light. If I were to speak the word blue, a mass extinction,
exiting.
In the drawer of her desk, my harvest rots. I have not yet learned how to give. In the stairwell,
time passing.
Head between the knees, neck slack, somewhere a root resembles a hand. Body insulated, body in the room, sometimes it is enough. Young, strong tissues. My father drops a lightbulb, He digs a hole in the earth, A moniker loosely held,
phosphenes scatter. calls it my gift. damp soil in the hand.
The alternative to relation: an apple seed. To let things take root, quiescent but for the possibility of brief light.
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