Teresa Sparks

always and never in a line



we dance this way when our hands stick together
and this way in the window

and this against the night
a constriction of feet
in our legs and stumbling

she’s whistling an aria outside
my window it is June and I
am singing also of disappointment

dirty as airplanes we find
half-buried in the woods behind
and strong like toys they carry us
until they don’t

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