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LOVE, A DARK, UNTITLED COMEDY/ I see my love for you as a tin cup fuU of feathers, a kit for making angels but that won't save me. to deliver non-believers. I love you, you write back, You see yours for me as a book lent to an infant in a basket when language is what's missing. Surprise, I write you, I know a goldfish buys you nothing. Our love always the stranger with someplace else to go, a coat, a gown walking down the road, feet following, while we sit, each of us beside our mailboxes bUssful ration of words from one another. hoping for a picture postcard, Words to draw the sting, to numb the swings of the body's brief duration to take life Ui its teeth, dirty string, and tie a lasting knot. The Missouri Review · 109 DEATH, A SECOND TRIP BY SEA/ No matter how much we love our skin, life will finish its work and leave our bodies, poor dead things. Box turtles Leave them underground. listening to insects, their small short breathings, feeling the green grow in our bones, the black around us dense as Ucorice. Above us, landscape. heat, long,
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Oct 5, 1996
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