Oxycocotycin by Lara Scott

There’s lots to think about when you love.

It’s interesting how the land lies
under broken snow,
broken by woodland.

Cold clouds gather along the neckline,
dry from the curses,
kissed by the elevation cure.

Your mood gallivants sometimes,
intent said over and over
in your rosy sleep.

A litany of possibles,
patchworked up by cruel ruses
and potential roosts.

With a busy patch.

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