Lindsay Adkins

Locks and Keys

Sometimes when he saw the moonlight

it made him forget all else

but the April leaves

awash in dew,

like emerald rings

on the hands of the trees,

jangling with the hum of the wind.

And how the darkness looked
so gravid and wet

that he could nearly slice into it,

cut himself a slit in the world

through which to disappear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 92
Numantia

 

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