Day Three Hundred and Ten.


Izzy circle


she salutes the driver, jumps off the bus
long grey skivvy and black stockings under her
short summer dress, checked blue and yellow

trailing listless down Rathdowne
backpack swinging, dyed-red ponytail bobbing
in this 40-degree heat


Sarah circle


There is something unfurling in me
stretching out like a cat nap
sending yawning arms out into the world
with bright shining eyes in tow
bringing back a face I think I could learn to trace
lips whose curve I could take a shy soft tongue to
a voice whose morning timbre and late night whispers
are a mystery to be unboxed in secret.
in my chest, the neighbourhood is being rattled
bits and pieces shuffling to the side to make a little room
for a snuffle-nosed little love to take up residence
rent free, and greeted with wine and welcome



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