Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Katie Condon

 

 

Lost Vendetta

 

I can't forget the smell of dove
juice               first from the bedside
                                                      rousing jasmine
stirring plasma
                                           of mornings.
             It is close           I am
growing
                      beside               my growing
eyes
mounting grass
                                  smelling you
                         and smoking.

 

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