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Juice Moon How I fell all five eggs. Egg as years. Felt the hemisphere overturned, the blonde dog breaking in two. Who’s keeping you sharp? Not the garden gnomes. Bright terndermellons, lemon squares at your block eyes. Hens camp on the porch, our dearness hangs in the trees. I walked home and found you here. Part mine, sour phantom. Part something good. You gave me a handful of orange roses that laughed up at me. Our fertile method sprang at the night yard.

POETRY | 97

Profile for phoebe

48.1 - Winter 2019  

Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's Winter 2019 issue.

48.1 - Winter 2019  

Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's Winter 2019 issue.

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