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Line Mine

Drawn line run between thigh

between thigh

slipped curve, bow from knee

to knee.

And I high high mind,

but more, rolled up sucking on my belly button than I’ve let on.

 

It is a strange thing to present these lines to you;

mined lines, I

picked apart from a basket of knots

Yesterday.

Yesterday when

pooled ink water in lichen rock crevice,

and I would wash my lungs on

the Thrift heads reflecting on its surface,

but sufficed instead with a pebble.

I roll it between my thumb and palm,

thinking of prehensile fingers

and how they latched on to you.