Sheet metal sun, tally of dead leaves, dogs, a rabbit darting into a slot between wood pile n’ pickets. Little sister tile saw, little
1. Bond’s in the lake with a henchman, and I’m a child again in that crowded pool in the grip of a drowning girl.
Eyes closed, I inhale, I imagine:
a fine needle in the arm opens your chest,
raises you to a high pitch,
sets you humming all night.
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