By James Diaz

my, what beautiful years you have

in your pack, trailing the eastern front
brambles, burning barns- then the light
in your eyes hesitating
between things
I broke like bread crumbs
every stone in me hungry
for naming, clamor cells
bursting cool, summer crushes
and hanging laundry
forest winding its longest arm
around the broken spot
every branch and breath
dancing like this light in my chest
forgive me if I forget what they call this place
mercy, I know it isn’t that
but it’s exactly like that\

Bio: James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018). He is founding Editor of the literary arts & music mag Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in Occulum and Philosophical Idiot. He lives in upstate NY and occasionally tweets @diaz_james.

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