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Wendy Burk |
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Ever in Life
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Ever in Life strong sun burrs catching everywhere queen butterfly and zebra longwing staking their cells on a blade of grass but in a metaphysical sense we are flying future. How quickly a road recovers when left to itself, quick progress of rebecoming field, separating into patches of sawgrass and limestone—like stepping stones— bobwhite returning to trees at the edge of the track. This is the future we hope and fear, are in and out, and we never finished it. I sucked the water from the tube, stood up and retraced our steps, time running backwards: yes, it can be. Remember he said, I can’t wait to see what it’s like on the other side but didn’t we think he was joking. Anyway, Isobel filled us in: at the end of the road is a den scraped away underneath some pines and the panther kittens, retrieved for collars, have bright blue eyes. Who could continue on the road is held by the love whose teeth chatter in sleep. |
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