stretch ｜ issue 3
while we have been climbing to the height
of the season and growing maniacal and green, certain of those hostels
thrown like breadcrumbs across the mind were proof enough
that one thing would eventually follow the next. Elements of pantomime
remove their splinters from the tongue; a fire that began in the throat
and raised its white flag after the last battery passed through now
lowers its green eyes and would really like to share something with you,
pulls a rope of variegated rags from its ear weeping now you see it, now you
see it, for it has no life of its own, as the crow that stands on a live wire
to denigrate us just this once, or a winter that ends in brief, irregular circles.
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