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When night was an octave lower, and our eyes less owl-wide, when love struck along the bass line and we cried forte, fortissimo

:

i s s u e

n o 1

POETRY

N I C H E

four hours before sunrise— When our unease had no grief, and pretenders saved us again on Purim eve and Haredim fluttered drunk down Mea Sharim, before this rueful heart played its last card, before rimshots ended those high AM hours, your right hand coming to teal down the footlights,

I believed in the morning star

giving way to a wonder as simple and young as us without true need on a fire escape,

as sliding in our socks below a carillon of waking birds and rain, as drawing the first weevil from the cracks.

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Niche Magazine No. 1  

Niche is an online literary magazine that was designed to be limitless. It aims to provide a place where an array of voices, from experimen...

Niche Magazine No. 1  

Niche is an online literary magazine that was designed to be limitless. It aims to provide a place where an array of voices, from experimen...

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