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by William Bortz


give me a home / what I mean by that is / fill the silence with the warm mist of your flailing breath / I know intimacy as a bird / delicate and hungry / like a gun / kept beneath a pillow / who will hold me / I am not particularly soft / I am more bone than anything else / more flight than forgive / line my tongue with your name and I’ll paint the nursery / so the sun warms it like the palm of your belly / remain and I’ll build a nest with your bones / I’ll lie there all winter / pressing the egg into my cheek / pressing my mouth into the mouth you left for me / checking for a pulse / checking for a body / how is it I can be so rigid / so unmalleable / and create something breathing / that will emit hot air dripping onto a lower back / filtering through the soil of a garden behind an ear / I know intimacy as a stone / lying / unmoving / between root and moisture / a disturbance more than a welcoming / a slow and steady violence my bones are struggling to absorb / night watches me tremble / a swollen moon sick with pleasure / and I am so terribly tired

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William Bortz

William Bortz is an editor and barista from Des Moines, Iowa. He has had pieces appear in Luck Magazine, Folded Word, Empty Mirror, 8 Poems, and the annual Lyrical Iowa anthology.

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