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The Difference Between Lonesome & High Lonesome, Part 1

Jen Tynes

I have felt a tenderness in the region           of women and men, an open

mouthiness. You bird          and dog, runneth           over the heels/

the heels and plastic wonder          bread bags          of home. I am yore

Jumanji, lady
— why don't you call          when I'm near.           I act on

habit-tat. I act on           everything comes out          my mouth.

* * *

No panties           or an elastic understanding of sky          coming out of

prison-ish meal.           Some people love           each other

in the back of the house,           that green stripe you struggled

home from itself.          It glows           on the right hand, out of the way

a couch is brought to           with afghanings, penny-weights

the eyes.           You two are related           like animals in cellophane,

a ground beneath the rock.           The whole           sentence not. Or smell

of not. Call in          to that cornhole and see what           it's gone.

By the skin          of a soapbox a little bird said.

Jen Tynes

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