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Pornographic valentine

Joni Wallace

Darling, my zero star, my crossed-out, when were you gone?
Once upon I caught you, a shadow bruise, a bled tattoo,
love, love, Love, the weather was clear, we were drinking.
Now love’s an engine that drags the dark, a smut-stained arpeggio,
the scar-slit moon in its velvet curtain of ether.
Past the stations, past the platforms, mercy mirrors me
a kiss, a tongueless o, part thirst, part extinction.

Joni Wallace

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