right hand pointing


  Adam Dupaski



you’ve been watching someone
shoot a handgun    out towards
Cuyahoga National    don’t know
what to do about that either    except
one evening    after returning from
the bar down in town    craning
your neck there    something sinister
to avoid seventeen bigscreens    you
catch a glimpse    of a wood pigeon
in the glaze    of your bedroom mirror
call me    and we commit to
taking it easy    a few hours out back
before ignoring what    she says
and ducking out    on a night hike
through the tunnel    in search of
the dankest moss    draping the ledges
we’ll feed the birds tomorrow    and try
to convince her    we saw a bald eagle
that wanted to be cradled in your arms



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