by Lani Scozzari
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It’s not as if it ever goes away,
as if it dissolves; the granules
are insoluble particles, two selves impacting
each other, irreversibly. What wavers between:
each other, irreversibly. What wavers between:
love, a choice I make each day. What has been,
settling residue sifting out to sea. Betrayal
settling residue sifting out to sea. Betrayal
of a husband—stone, palm, riverbed. Everything
else is illusion, everything else glints,
else is illusion, everything else glints,
flashes, a vapor blown through.
When the cardinal chimes Morning
When the cardinal chimes Morning
come back and the moon glows orange
as large as the sky, we run through
as large as the sky, we run through
the fog. If he will stay, let me
know something. What is marriage? On the cusp
know something. What is marriage? On the cusp
of fever, I ask myself. Tonight
I sat outside on the front porch, a swarm
I sat outside on the front porch, a swarm
of dragonflies darting past,
buzzing themselves against
buzzing themselves against
my cheek then my leg, what
they needed unrevealed to me.
they needed unrevealed to me.