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POETRY

N I C H E

The quietly murdered collect in a pile, casting marvelous shadows that suggest young trees. Circling the pile: insects seeking meat, birds who’ve shed their migratory urges, brothers and sisters felled by rage, priests and the loyal dogs. The souls are ascending at varying speeds and it’s a sort of performance in cool, blue light. Pattern and no pattern, not unlike motives. The end of life is bordered by illusion. Words dim to hum, to breath. Only the broken hear the bone songs.

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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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