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Sara Peck


add an ocean we’d be
                                    this morning
makes me splinter

add we’d be
                          single-spaced troublesome

saying goodbye in hallways
somehow together
making toast

how (did) I want
                          a hand in your
                          home like a campfire

sleep in this something marvelous
                          (here) my throat


in the kitchen
what if I love
                          the wrong thing

the most morning (I know) versus

this afternoon
the hummingbird (yes, needs) to discuss

we missed the summer again

if one were to draw up a line graph of absence
                          there would be a

vacation in the fall

there’s the dream I’m
on the el tracks somewhere

                          someone with intensity is there
maybe it’s you say these train
tracks are mine


there is a year
            the biggest star my mouth

you lie wide minutes
you lay (all ways) sideways

traffic you weathered

the rain but there’s nowhere empty
to put it


get back there is the dirt not giving

it won’t feed you I am using

my door as a boat now

we teach our chests still alive

you break my ears there are too

many goddamn branches

about stubble my nose a sun

peel I want to live with

in the nettles we found

your mistaken faith sticks

with the best parts of lying

down leaking I learn to be the hollow

sound in a too big rain

the dirt you are crying where

Sara Peck
is living in Charleston, South Carolina, where she sells used books, swims in the dark, and writes poems with middle schoolers on an island. She received an MFA a year ago. She is published or forthcoming with OmniVerse, Everyday Genius, and Versal, among others.