seneca guns & other phenomena
- thinking of kissing you I move
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- my tongue across my pills
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- [my pillow dampened by morning's distraction]
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- your lips could split an ocean
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- o how your mouth broke me
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- [I push the sand grit from my face]
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- o how you threw me from continental shelf to unforgiving
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- atlantic abyss
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- [from the salt smudged window I see the pelican
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- its silent flight abovethe shore reeling
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- against the wind's extended release]
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- I am familiar w/the sound of cannon fire
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- I say the sound of seneca guns is nearly identical
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- [but is passion desiring a particularperson a single mysterious other
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- once & for always w/out]
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- boomrattle rattle boom& it is
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- through the light
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- in the lighthouse throbbing with antici
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- pation what it is probably
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- not ghostly weapons
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- industrial disaster global
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- warming tectonic shifting
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- top secret activity [though we all have secrets some of us
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- stifling them w/tetracyclics coffee
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- with artificial sweetener assorted candy
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- colored reuptake inhibitors six packs
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- of diet soda& when sleep finally comes secrets
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- crestthen crash over usleave us
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- gibbeted in sweat soaked sheets come
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- morning]
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- there is only the invisible
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- weight of your body rumbling in from the seathe length
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- of it stretchingover alabaster
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- lab coatsthe whole of its tender
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- intensity slidingpast seismographs
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- [& when I mention pills I imagine my tongue
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- on the cool moonlit sea glassof bottleI imagine this
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- one wordthis one prayerthis one praise
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- this one regret]
- R.D. Morgan lives in the Deep South, and she analyzes websites and markets books online for a living. She earned her MFA in Poetry nearly ten years ago (in 2003).