Sixfold Poetry Winter 2019

Komorebi There’s a heaviness that smells like the inside of a breathalyzer but I haven’t had a drop to drink.

It tugs at my tourmaline bones and sinks me into the sleeping peat where the earth percolates in leaden surrender and my womb of roots begins to reach upwards like nesting birds.

Let me lay here as I wait for whatever gentle shape I’m becoming and watch the light filter past the branches like a promise.

SIXFOLD POETRY WINTER 2019

Andrea Reisenauer

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