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 Apr 23
Prevost
The nakedness of spring
We were raw and ******
What the winter had drawn from us
Went into hibernation

Turning the soil was fresh
It placed us back into
The lineage of mother farmer
Of both love and dying
The scent of being human

I always dreamed that she had dark hair
And brown eyes
Her dress would be of summer
Standing at the end of the field
Free of undergarments
And bleeding into the earth

We would lunch on grass salad
I would crave her lips with every bite
But dreams are blind
 Apr 22
irinia
Books we've never read are opening for us.
Towns shimmer in the night air.
Cold dawns. Warm autumn train stations.
The roads turn like pages. Eyes reddened by wind.

Nothing now but the bookmark of a horizon.
You hold my little finger tightly.
Dew prints ellipses on our path;
Later, coppery shadows line the grass.

The day's reborn. I yearn for longer books.
The Lord plays his music on the wind's viola.
We are as pure and strange as Sanskrit words.
We greet the sun, whom we resemble.

by Marjana Savka
 Apr 21
Shareka
Missing two souls who made it whole

The only chaos I find myself longing for

The laughter, the late-night chatter,

Echoing softly in the corner of my world

The pictures on the walls whispering tales,

Every element echoing a loss too deep to name.

The nostalgia that comes with what once was

A scent that lingers,

The foundation of all I believe,

Etched in the walls

In a place we all call home.
 Apr 17
Vianne Lior
Crow tends the cuckoo,
its heart cracked, yet still it heals
shadows nurse the thief.

 Apr 7
junipercloud
i saw a bluebird
and a cardinal
out the window
and i thought of
my mother’s many
miscarriages
i imagined her
weeping, kneeling
over her womb
laid out on a stretcher
above her
no longer feeling
a small heartbeat
bouncing around
the silence of
her tongue
i saw a bluebird
and a cardinal
out the window
and i thought of
the fact that i was
sitting here looking
at birds
as my mother’s
daughter flew
as if there
were a sun in the room
and i cried
as if she could
feel my tears inside
of her
like my tiny fingers
and feet
when i was in
her beautiful
stomach
i saw a bluebird
and a cardinal
out the window
and i thought of
the event
of being born
i do not remember
my birth
nor does
the doctor
whom i cannot claim
to have never met
hands scored
with disinfectant
touching my newborn
body
delicate
i grew up to
tell people i
was born in texas
and they tell me
all about texas
and i learn more
than i would had
i not been born
there, had
i not lived elsewhere
a box
of tissues on
the nightstand
i saw a bluebird
and a cardinal
out the window
and i thought of
how i was a
completely new
person to her
(my mother)
when i was born
and does
a parent ever
truly know the
stranger they created?
so i sat
and wondered
all the while
my mother
in a car
reassuring my every
turn, dodging roadkill
flies on the antlers
more carcasses
than yellow lines
on the road
i saw a bluebird
and a cardinal
out the window
and i thought of
my mother and i
and how are we?
and how many?
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