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The Mind This Morning
Play a little
lime-game with me
Your lake-face flashes
like a shelf
cleaned by the sweep
of an arm
Crash! Don’t own
a broom
We collect
dust to collage
the dock
There is hair in
the lake-roof there
Someone watches
from behind a tree
like a water-clock
We exist before
sex
We float the rinds
in a bucket
I am a matchstick
mast
The source of joy
is the instinct for joy
When we play
the faster we spin
trees mother trees mother
treesmothertrees
*
The Raising
I know your mountain
It’s flagless
Laced with roots
Berry-laden
Your face, oily burlap
Ash on the envelope
To shake off or tuck in
Lakes, turn to me
Tumorless
I hold the water
*
Your Hasty Answer to Light
Horizon’s drama
a vestige
Why does it slant pictorial?
Particular dark
a flighty bulb
I’m part-time liquid
Deficit of the pear
behind the ear
I made a motion, a motor
& a car cries back
crossing out
the strain of light
Behind-behind
the liquid
Julia Cohen is the author of Triggermoon Triggermoon and two forthcoming collections. Her work appears in journals like Colorado Review, DIAGRAM, New American Writing, and Kenyon Review Online. You can find her at www.OnTheMessierSideOfNeat.blogspot.com