Losing Ian – Julia Lindsay

You were jizz-jazz lightening.
Flannelled up,
arrogant on the front porch
with a 22 of some stolen malt

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Home at 3 am
wandering the woods
you preferred the view swathed in black and blue,
hoping the encroaching ropes of sun
wouldn’t string you from the oak

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“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
But there’s a distance cinched
in the space between your eyes,
brows looked like they could inchworm into each other

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You faltered,
opiates in your hand,
your pocket