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by mackenzie kozak



he says     you have put flowers on the table

but no food

and i say     there are

mirrors in the bedroom     mirrors

we are floating in the field

where he once tried to live alone

our heels grazing specific blades of grass

                i say     when roots cover my eyes

he     too many thin dark lines

he     abandoned clocks

he     taupe rings in a glass

i say     living between white doors

what could you expect     he       what shrill

voice you have

the field goes unnamed and wears

no blossoms    only a few trees close to the horizon that turn slowly        are heads turning to hear us

Mackenzie Kozak is a poet living in Asheville, NC. A 2018 finalist of the National Poetry Series, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Boston Review, DIAGRAM, Denver Quarterly, jubilat, Poetry Northwest, Sixth Finch, Thrush Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. Find her online at 

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