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The Pressing Bodies of Over-Dark



The Pressing Bodies of Over-Dark

by James Diaz

I held the steadfast

blood trickle

call me anyday

I'm not blind

and empty like you said

things change

but not hometowns

every hole in the wall

is still there

collecting moonlight

in its small tunnel of plaster

fake out kisses near the highway store

one hand under your sweater

we could be starlings

stupid and no good

did you hear they moved this town skyward

and november reeked of chem trails

and saturday front porch parties

sad skin touching sad

dissapearing friends

your mascara

running

from the cops

how did we not die

of course it'll never be the same

we died, surely- it was snowing

you were pantless and looking for your keys

we opened the mouth of god

our fingertips skulled the great wide dark

the world went to our head, our hips

sweaty, the last thing I remember

is you turning into a pure white cloud

and all that rain

all that beautiful rain.

James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018). He is founding Editor of the literary arts & music mag Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in Occulum and Philosophical Idiot. He lives in upstate NY and occasionally tweets @diaz_james.

Image by Gabriele Diwald, found on Flickr.

#poetry #februarymarch2018 #jamesdiaz #atonement #rain

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