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Lauren Kessler

New York

rain severs the city

into halves, quarters, millionths,


the peripheral visions of

a passerby—


cigarettes nestled in

the zigzag of cobblestones


a damp brown paper bag

clinging to the neck of a bottle


summer’s soft breath

holding itself – still –


against the fishnetted legs

stepping into an off-duty taxicab


as the night is ending and the storm

is glossing the streets


in streaks of redyellowgreen,

in halves, quarters, millionths. 

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