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ValentineJoni WallaceHow I have wanted you, your blue electric buzz, your high wires. I do not always. Love enters the room disguised as a spoon. It’s a small place. My plate, my plate, my plate never is. Scrim of stars, gray cement moon, insomniac cow. Kill the lights, please. Cut. ![]() Joni Wallace Read Bio Author Discusses Poems |
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