‘Harford, New York (Country/City)’ by Bryce Jones

Adam Lerner

I tuned my teeth to clench an F / below her body’s ambience
a half-step

We can’t / hold silence / despite not speaking / when discord caries / my mouth / her patience and fading / each / is our scraped air

I text / apart / to reconcile / guide sound / a staff of virgules /
as though the past might separate /
and separate its echo

 

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