Mad-hatter of a glitter-eyed

night, send our ghosts a savior.

Kiss our strength away

until our being blends into the moon.

 

Broken under this bald clap of light, half-dead

bugs sizzle in the shag carpet. Deliver us

over to that fruited flesh, into that smooth

darkness where we can hide together.

                                                                  —Ryan Romine

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Published in the January 14, 2011 issue: View Contents
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