A l i c i a W r i g h t —

I Wouldn’t Mind Dying

Naked as a two-lane road

The traced edge waves of foothills

In the valley of dry bones

Like a scimitar following

One point to another openly

I asked I can’t remember if

We ever kissed he answered

How could you forget the field

Ice pressing my homecoming

Dress the dark his moving liplines

By and by it occurs

The unanswerable test

In my thirtieth year

I heard the storm of faces

Alone voices singing exponential

A wheel in the middle of the wheel

The turkey vulture opens its tipped

White mouth no song comes out

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