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Here, in the face of the made,
Abandon me. In the dark

Where firelight licks
Stone walls, begin. I draw

My spear and take most
Careful aim. Draw the buck

The spear is looking for.
What if it’s all

In my head? I can carry
The whole mountain there,

The striped cat stalking
My shadow. I know what

It feels like to share a skin,
Blood in my heart. Did I

Start with an idea of beauty
Or only end there? When

Weather turns and famine comes
It will be enough.

The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

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