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Let me feel your sun warm my throat, illuminating me from inside. What spills from crows’ beaks but seeds and trinkets— earring, dry fly, fishing line slide through watery mouths. Do I walk away, heart tight as a walnut— or towards, which is really the same direction the swallows eddy and a cormorant rises, wet with a rainbow in his mouth.
Copyright 2022 Lindsey Royce. First published in Verse Virtual. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the author.
Lindsey Royce’s collections of poetry include Play Me a Revolution published by Press 53. She lives in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.