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Cat Fiske Jul 2016
The smell of you,
is like metal,
probably because you weld metal together,
as one would sew two fabrics together,
only your fabric is made of metal.
and ironically enough,
laying next to you,
the smell of you and all,
makes me wish,
to  be welded to your side,
but I am not made of metal,
and though you smell like it,
neither are you,
so I can only hope,
to keep lying like this,
for the longest while,
Jesse Cox Dec 2015
I was walked through corridors
of hardened steel, floating in a harbor.
My young eyes did not marvel
at the way it sat above the water.
My eyes drifted toward the sharp flashes
of filler metal, melting in between two joints.
I was told not to look directly at it;
I couldn’t look away.

My bones grew,
and my structure was fused
into its permanent fixture and
today I’m given a mask,
heavy tinted black glass over my eyes.  
I’m not told to look away,
merely blinded.
Watching the same work I marveled at years ago
hands working tirelessly at a task,
performing flawlessly,
and when I close my eyes,

the spark persists.

Even now floating metal masses,
though seemingly improbable,
still do not amaze me
like the light created
in broad daylight.
But even this joint
is not fused flawlessly,
smooth and stubborn,
metal makes sure of this.
From Fall 2015 portfolio

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