• Unskin Me With Your Neck of Knives

      by Graham Tugwell


      She woke me.

           Her eyes are gold and amber oak, her shoulder rolls along her smile.
           Her back to me.
           Her hips and spine viola lines— the backless silver of her dress is wet in early dawning light, her shoulder blades are knives aslant, biting back upon her skin like unlipped mouths.
           "It's happened to me."

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    • Looking Upward

      by Cynthia Staples


      Into the branches of the towering oak

      I saw first the cardinal with feathers brilliant red

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