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Feral Love


we are running from

this infectious feeling

like two mutts

chained down,

silver collars clipped beneath

tongues lolling for air.

he says,

mutts roll over

when you are the alpha dog,

expose their underbelly-wrapped

buffet of organs to bared teeth

and wait for the bite,

so I take his hand.

my reminiscing is flawed

but I know

there were flowers that day, growing

where concrete meets grass,

tendrils curved like the spine in its regression to the womb.

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