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Christmas Stoup


ISSUE:  Fall 2012

Ink slurs into byssal threads,
split blue caskets of mussels
scapular in ritual archipelago, butter, cream,

the chowder pot a holy trencher
on a night stour, bitter
with advent, wilted cruxes, tarragon,

bassinet of clamshell, shucked,
fragile saddlebags,
houses primeval: slughead, mantle,

foot, all vulnerable, indomitable.
Frozen tongues lengthen magnetically
at the cornices. The moon. Ah, the moon,

a cameo unspendable, the world
in verbless fugue state, triad of thyme,
bay; the sorrowful sea by the body unlocked.

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