Places Where the Wind Passes Through
By Poetry Mitchell Prize 2021
i. I was circling in a dry cistern pit, when I asked the Spirit to gamble on me. What were the chances, half-in and half-out, that I’d answer the ad in the paper? ———————Tossed in the box by the phone, it waited. Shame makes a hornets’ nest deep in the body. I’d lost twenty years…
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