poem16 Oct 2022 04:02 pm

Rebecca Bennet
“When did you stop looking at the moonlight?” He asks from behind the cash register of a family store remembering a shadow of us in formation on the field echoing the same howls of our fathers He’s looking at a body no longer lithe and hairless sees I’ve copied my father’s yawns instead and knows that howling is meant for girls with bleached incisors with makeup as sharp as a claw I don’t say there are other blood calls now new places that make my heart thrum people who make my insides itch I don’t tell him that he’s still howling but hasn’t shifted
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