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Springtime

By Ashley Pearson

—from DISTANT LOVER (OR, WHEN YOU’RE TEACHING IN AMHERST AND, WHILE ON A LATE NIGHT WALK, YOUR WIFE CALLS FROM BROOKLYN TO SAY GOODNIGHT) by John Murillo

The dawn of spring, and everything sexual. Look:

so sexual the mauve carnations in bloom.

Sexual the predatory scorpion maneuvering its stinger. Feel:

sexual your rain film stuck skin and your wide-open mouth.

A mother bird feeding its young. Be chewed up and spit out.

Sexual the ruminant Aries rearing their

horns. Stalking the streets and sleeping alone. Be:

sexual the green grass poking at your feet.

Indulge in your flimflam fetish.

Sexual the sunniest day, the rays of sun exposing

every square acre of your sparkling golden body. So sexual

the dawn of spring, Aphrodite, goddess of

love, watching you drown.

burning

by Lee Lipe

the smell of smoke never

washed out of my

clothes or yours.

my hands are a loose

housefire

and i am tired of burning

us both.

you are too soft beneath my callouses and trigger happy

hands.

i leave you

tainted

every time.