| Outside the water sings its tortuous note, devoid of the parrot, devoid of the quetzal. A song without ears, a dry silk wrapped around the throat, neither warm nor cold but a vacillation between the two. A hammer swinging through the aether of the flesh, the mind's red line. Tonight a part of me shivers, liking it, my whole body in one place, where steel drags along. I wonder if the body wants more to open or to shut. Copyright © 2019 Stephanie Adams-Santos. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 27, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets. |
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