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The Knife Cameron Morse Half moon apple slice in the dark mouth of my heaven. Half-unbuttoned button slipping out of the dark shirt of my body. Half moon wolf aglow by the howl of my better half, be my riptide, my white incision. Why the gods choose to cleave us claims Aristophanes and I believe it: evidence of the navel, nostril. Apple slice half moon blemished lady wife me, slice me, fill me brightly whole again in the hole of moonlight, the silver coin in my wishing well. |
Photo by J. R. Korpa