by Brita Sauer



From my window in the projected night, 
a lizard caught in a square of light. 
It is a sticky-footed singularity 
but one dark eye still catches the gleam.

Yellow fig beyond we nibble 
a we-ness too sweet for our solitary mouths.

               what precious stop-motion 
               proceedings what whiptailed 
               delight what singular crack 
               in our lines of vision 

What would happen if I brought 
my whole heart if we brought 

our whole hearts our cowled 
shuddering instruments.

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