Editor: Esther

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Excerpt from FLESH GRAPHS by

13. She touched my ankle, so I touched her neck, and then the spaces above and below it. And then she touched the bony expanse between my breasts and I thought about saying stop but instead decided to go on a scavenger hunt for places to bite: the space of her belly before her groin, her knee, the scar on her back that I lick, she laughs like a broken clock, and we both say enough to love.

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Apophasis by

Like some Sunday afternoon, my years emerge— / a car ride through the country then the city then back, / the maple trees, flax fields, rivers: a distance / but so close that memories are puffs of air on my closed eyes / and so it goes, and so I go like everyone / existing in small rooms, waiting.