Kirby Knowlton


This intermission is women's work.
I tell him of when I swallowed
a locket holding my own picture.
Good fish, he says,
you caught yourself.
Neither mirror nor window—
still he sees himself in me.
I know that it is easier to play along
by how we credit the wind
for the chime's song.
Tonight what will save me
will be to tell no story at all.
My voice a speck of dirt
that stays quiet so long
it becomes a pearl.

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