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A quarterly international literary journal

Snoopy Band-Aid

/ Poetry /

You hear yourself echo inside her. Knock, knock. It’s me, baby Dionysus.

Look at that face, it’s yours.

An early understanding of beauty: driving past harvested cornfields,

the rows looked like the spinning pleats of a skirt.

An early understanding of home: the salt pig on clean blonde wood.

A 1994 World Cup soccer ball kept on display.

An early understanding: I fell off a seesaw the height of a sunflower.

Was sent home, groundless, down a first century road.

An early understanding of space: I used to make my body fill every square

on the bedspread’s grid.

An early understanding of space: glow in the dark stars

during the day, absorbing light for later.

An early understanding: It’s ok to scratch the car, so what if it’s a Porsche.

Ice-skating Ken & Barbie need a lake on which to axel.

We heard their plastic blades’ scritttch scraaatch.

Outside middle c, the music hall rhythm.

We’re running out of melodies.


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