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Four Poems by Brian Blanchfield

[...]
Him I found in the dative case
thrown concussive on the very air, west expectancy:
he said I sat close enough to notice if I wanted
his black eyes burgeon at cruising altitude
and before descent he could, he believed, if I wanted,
taste it rocking back,
like dialing a memory.

(from "Nurse Mustn't Rummage")

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