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Selective Xenophagy





Selective Xenophagy

  

We speak in nods and grunts,

 
the language of three generations before you.

 
Myself, now taking on the tradition. 

 
Dinner time comes in a rush,

 
the rite of passage into hearts.

 
The scrape of the fork,

 
the pit of love left on lips, unkissed.

 
I smile, the of pitter patter art 

 
of small talk, lost among us.

 
I drag myself 

 
from one thought to another. 

 
Perhaps-  we should of been born

 
telepathic. 

 
At least then, I wouldn't have to bankrupt 

 
the piggy bank.

 
We could pitch tents 

 
for night stalking. 

 
The stars, Orion's show. 
 

Let magic happen.

 
Let us count to three. One .two. three.

 
No?

 
I'm left standing here, in blades of grass 
 

taller than trees. 

 
Hiding from myself. 

 
Waiting for the magic to begin.

           


Sarah Hardin

 

Sarah Hardin is a novelist and poet from the Southern United States. She has been featured in

Pif, Shampoo, Dog-Ear, Scribo, little bits, she is also the author of ‘Frayed Noose’ her second novel is in the works.

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