by Caroline Finkelstein
I’m a firefly, covered boat,
the housemaid, Sickle Moon.
by Jeff Hardin
Lazing and drunk, they’re called,
dipping to find an angle in to sip again the honeysuckle
(and again and again),
the thick-drenched, everywhere scent of it,
all day bumping against the sugary universe of all this is before and after.
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