Afterwards, tissue
paper frail, we try hard not
to tear each other.
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Afterwards, tissue
paper frail, we try hard not
to tear each other.
This is why she can’t
move back East, the cubicle
life too dim, dull, stale.
We both had bad dreams
but she’s okay, Portland-bound,
scratching poison oak.
Oh look he says, so
happy to find a snack he
can have for himself.
Like skin, snow sags droops
puckers. Tears slide across a
hard crusty surface.