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    I Heard You the First Time  

     

    by Michael Robins

     

     

     

    I’m drinking & the room is drinking 

     

    gray sky into the ground. Gray sky

     

     

    & you smolder like a paper lantern,

     

    the terrible glow in which we heed

     

     

    half our minds. Terror isn’t brutal 

     

    exactly, some tree in fear of degree.

     

     

    In fact, you glow astoundingly sober 

     

    where I’m thinking of John Wayne 

     

     

    on fire, hunger inside the hayhouse

     

    & two sticks rubbing in a matchbox.

     

     

    I am drinking & I find despair again

     

    flashing whitened teeth, whispering

     

     

    sweet promises for the light ahead. 

     

    I want to timber your effects on me.

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