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Joël Du Bois

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(table. sitting)

across the grain of
the glass we cut
between our teeth jagged

sentences. bloody-lipped
we squeeze words
into stone, silence into

mortar we reveal
on our tongues black
clots. i pile you

stack these stones across
the glass we break our
teeth one by one.

i can’t stop not looking
at you. you see i cut
my hands our words

reaching across our
tongues rebuilding
the great wall of china.

 
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