Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2018  Vol. 17 No. 2
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Through the mist I see as the first mammals 
once saw through their forests, dark photons
translating light for them into shape:
shadow flower, shadow stone, the black ripple
of bees and the weeping blood of their honey
inside the trees. My first eye 
stares back at mine
and into my chest pours a weight, an infinite 
pressure somewhere inside my heart or left lung
like an extinction echoing backward into
the first cell of its animal, my body colder
in that spot.
A thumbprint blooms between my breasts 
where a stranger once pressed,
and being so alone here
I open like a grave.  

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