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Snow, Luminous

As if the snow

and all it tries to hide

weren’t born of want too.

At the edge of the wood,

at the edge of one cold wound,

coyotes call their own.

Strange mouths wanting still,

a rabbit escapes beyond

teeth and endings.

Hunger like this feeds

on possibility. Your shadow

on snow is enough.

from TeratologyFind it in the Library

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on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Poems Susannah Nevison

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