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Wool garden by Marisca Pichette


Fountains—found-tains—found,

fond,

An ain is what? Plain, pain,

air lodged in your nose. Breath

like sun-bleached spring, winter hangs on

until summer at last emerges

clinging to a tail of snow.


Poor spring is left

no chair to rest on,

overlooked

& no choice but to lie down

and watch the clouds.


We watch.


We mark time chiseled across

our wrists, numbers wrought

in scars and freckles and wisps

of hair that never matched the rest.

We watch a time

invented.


Dandelions know when to

start, stop,

linger in a bed of green.


Sheep amble with the sun

their hooves carving contrail furrows

in the seams of the sky.


Rain falls,

lanolin running

to slick the sea.


 

Marisca Pichette is a queer author based in Western Massachusetts, on Pocumtuck and Abenaki land. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Fireside Magazine, Room Magazine, Flash Fiction Online, Fantasy Magazine, Necessary Fiction, and Plenitude Magazine, among others. Her debut poetry collection, Rivers in Your Skin, Sirens in Your Hair, is out now from Android Press. Find her on Twitter as @MariscaPichette and Instagram as @marisca_write.

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