by Mary McGinnis

Lime flavor, slightly artificial -
I'm taking it for focus under my tongue. I like
how it fizzes as
I feel
understories returning: twenty years without you so I weep
more, lose more poems,

long for a good excuse to blame someone.
I know it's up to me
to step over whirling waters,
how to untangle what's dank what
I don't prefer,
momentary fear and grief one more time.

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