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February Alan May

So ends abatement the dying of the stream a child pisses in the snow snow that should be dirt to cover dirty flowers strewn and left for dead death love’s end a dirty sidewalk silence nothing stirs not invisible weeds not birds and I’m so tanked I can barely reach the chain to the light switch so I croon:  If spring makes it I can as is with the wind cold as your skin and the sky bleak and empty as I am the light dares not touch a hair on me... my head curses its luck my cruise of bitters the only oil for annointment meanwhile I shuffle down imaginary streets where you drop me like a scraggly kitten behold I mew while the darkness pours on me like milk while the dogged darkness licks me with its sloppy tongue