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Solstice
- University of Illinois Press
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27 Solstice It was hard to hear through the roaring of the wasps. The dress tighter over the laced corset, the breath inside smaller at the core. I found a wing not attached to any bird. It was lying in the middle of the street, still soggy with the morning’s rain. An exceptional calculation of berries per starling. A startling concentration of exhumations per buried. And marks on the skin where the electric spine lay underneath. CalciĀcation. One day, the moon will fly out of its orbit, a release like a snapping, an amputation, and the dead rock gone. The small voices of the lambs drowned out by the machinery rigged for their removal. I began to think about the ocean. I begged to think, melodic apparitions rising out of the static chord. For there is an ocean with huge stones underneath, the shapes of dinosaurs. Some days, I can’t wait for him to come back for me. This time I will tell him my new name. If you are proud of me, I will say, take me with you. Don’t leave me again. ...