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Amy King

Raindrops Surface


Who never danced anywhere
alone to silhouette dressing
in continuous liquor instant,
the mouth swell tides out

A cool glow lying
in the cab's fast back
just past midnight
and sanitizes
legal freedom
all over,
across the vacant seats
with nongrip sponge
and moves you back
two spaces

There's an affinity
balancing between us
passing through
open door,
step in talk
about exaggeration
by window the streaks
remain scene
through passing scene



Let Us Become Where They Went


I have followed the description
of innocence until death's half moon
scattered, lying over sidewalks to pull
my dramatized being from the other country
where Jean Harlow smiles deeply
and the Mexicans on bikes
pass into cold fission back - I become
little twinklings, the scenery of graffiti
across regret recalling backward
and am no other import any other way



Molly Hob


I'll call you equal parts symbol,
the rest is picture
untouched by ground cure, the smallest force
black cicadas hum the first season in-

She walks with no external, no internal present,
carries day as the secret painting of day
folded in palm, a natural lyric humming feast
pinched within not all of brides

A dormant we,
the shadow of them stroked to blur
in the handbook for the element of sight:
voodoo index she someday seems
sidewalk gravitational night



The Body's Never Certain Origin


One body found was not missing nor dislocated
but implied departure by packing a leap -

This flesh border runs several million miles in our capacity
to see, one of unquestionable legend delinquency

The footsteps, aerial photos and scale of reality
amend the new weeds, having sprung by the highway's side

A forest has flooded and eventually a person to a swamp
lands, the plunge of same tattered mapmaker chanting

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