What I’m Reading: An Ending Is a Blunt Object by Samantha Deal

Spending time today with this long poem posted at Word Riot, falling in love with its language and imagery and the deep, resonant familiarity of it.

. . . Everything—even the crickets—will stop
& listen as you split a screen door from its dry-socket frame

but I’ve heard the unfastening of hips, the careful click of human
exhaustion. I’ve heard a wooden door open its mouth for you

& I swear I would too, because it’s your not-quite-human quiet
that I want. I called you hazy field of yellowed grass, called you sleepy

heap of secrets. For a long time I plan to keep the slow motion
swing of you between my legs—here, at the joints, the fragile

rubbed against & held together. . . .

Read the whole thing. It’s beautiful.

wr-inc

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