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6 Thoughts on Love


by Joe Sullivan


“Careful of the shells,” you

said. I wanted to taste

your white, and make

a table of your midriff.

 


 

Georgia's just a

place with

so little, but

an island nevertheless.

 


 

Sky's a thing we

seem to be, when the

light focuses on our

skulls.

 


 

“Devastatin',” she said,

“Jes, devastatin'.” She couldn't

help but repeating. A Russia

had fallen.

 


 

Your keel was broken

like a simple thought

in the jackhammered

pavement.

 


 

I channeled

your mother

and beat you

senseless, too.

 


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