| I’m a witch who lost all her powers, then in place of my powers, I got the coiled beauty of seashells and sleeping infants. The coiled beauty of eardrums, and the sound wave of bells. The bells! This is the country of clouds. The molten body, the Floridian pinks, and centuries of sand dollars examining the arcing waves. New territory of interiority and I’m in the middle of this. White like a negative belt. I am an airless thing. When I get high, I get low. But I’m real and airless and love you. Copyright © 2016 Sandra Simonds. Used with permission of the author. |
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