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by | Apr 7, 2020 | Issue Fourteen, Poetry

This coffee is still learning, spills

sweetens night after night

the way fireflies flavor their legs

then wait for the rippling hum

that’s not a bat –you teach this cup

smoke, emptiness and what it’s like

to lean across as come right in

let you sip from the black dress

spreading out as mountainside

–with your eyes closed, with honey

you convince this cup to clasp your hand

move it closer to the other

though the darkness already smells

from flypaper, from your elbows

holding on to the wooden table.

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