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His Daughter, Again I am over his shoulders in the picture — divide what you have lost by what you have the wind slicing through the trees trying the cadence of voice, the smell of hair Wrap me in Christmas lights, white They weren't supposed to pouring over the back how we had to walk faster In the Forest This is where I will tell you so that you can see inside all the lights turned on living there — In the shower so that I don't have to love you anymore — my fear of planes all these things all the grief pooling around my ankles the white of the porcelain tub shining how I see you in everything replete with the silences of of trees Erika Moya, a Los Angeles Native, attends the MFA program at the University of North Carolina — Wilmington. Her poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming inĀ Holly Rose Review, Le-Pink Elephant Press, Qaartsiluni, and UNSAID Magazine. contact |
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Copyright 2River. Please do not use or reproduce without permission. |