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Late Night Unspooling

Because what comes from the body
is a claim for the body. The body

makes a claim on the air that surrounds
it by one millimeter like flowers

make a claim on their air with their outrageous
color, like bees do with vibration, or

young men with anger. At night, when I
need to be calmed, I inhabit again the days

of my children's births. The oldest one tipped
blue and staring, the youngest round

and tightly shut. Mine says the body
Mine mine mine. And it means around it

the soil and the air, the greening light
that comes from the exhalation of growth

which is a plant's only joy. On summer evenings
the child's hair lifts up toward the roof as if the shape

of the roof could draw to it all unshapes
and make them triangular. Power is a stable base,

is the eye opening for the first timeó
the density of nothing and then sudden, shocking light.

Sarah Blackman


Fall 2017

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