“My bones are not softer than average, and their pain when broken is sharp, hard. But years of injuries have taught me that bodies are soft—softer when wounded—all the way down to the bone.”
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…Black currants / gleam like sugar. Their barrels gleam / with the opposite of water.
Or maybe it’s me / who kneels, presses / my face to the green / cobbled floor of last era’s / ocean, the present’s / veins…
You have two lungs, but / when one collapses the other / cannot be pulled open…