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Pericardium

Joanna Klink
Am I not alone, as I thought I was, as I thought
The day was, the hour I walked into, morning
When I felt night fly from my chest where prospect had
Slackened, and close itself off, understanding, as I thought I did,
That the ground would resist my legs and not let them
Break nor let them be released into air as my heart, in its
Muscle, might be released from the body that surrounds it, 
Like someone who, placing a hand on a shoulder's 
Blade, felt a life move inside an hour and a day 
Break from the day the hour meant something more than weakness, 
More than fear, and flew forward into the depths of 
Prospect, your arms, where you'd been, before me, waiting
For me, the way the body has always been waiting for the heart to sense 
It is housed, it is needed, it will not be harmed.

Copyright © 2010 by Joanna Klink. Used with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2010 by Joanna Klink. Used with permission of the author.

Joanna Klink

by this poet

poem

And I carried to that emptiness
between us the birds
that had been calling out
 

all night. I carried an old
bicycle, a warm meal,
some time to talk.
 

I would have brought
them to you sooner
but was afraid your own
 

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STARS, SCATTERSTILL. Constellations of people and quiet. 

Those nights when nothing catches, nothing also is artless. 

I walked for hours in those forests, my legs a canvas of scratches,

trading on the old hopes—we were meant to be lost. But being lost