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Twelve days before Easter a heron dances on razor wire that’s strung like Christmas lights around the Texas prison. The San Juan riverbed is dry enough for breath to expose the bones of migrants buried in the topsoil. I do not waste my children. With the bones I craft a mobile and let the blistered marrow pollinate the earth as snow. And with the wire I forge a catch and tether to fish the holy out from hiding in the empty lake where shadows rage. But heron, I let you dance until your lungs are parched and sore. Even God needs to exhale some mornings.

Hilary Willamette was winter stretched ice sculpture daughter fawn ear tongue young belmont and a half moon playground intimate animal wrapped two warm bodies sleep skin skeleton key grip intestinal fortitude strip screws in leg poles x-ray resistant forehead opens clumps ginkgo petals north waterfront poem pages pieces ship bottle belongwater tightlip strong lockdown angeldevil baby infant wave crush who i made love once maybe ------Dylan Debelis

----Dylan Debelis

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Peacheslitmag issue #2  

Peacheslitmag issue #2