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two poems

by Stacie Leatherman

Postcard from Idleness

So what, so what anything,

because beautiful, because why not,

because it should or should not be


says the zealot

between Novembers.

Postcard from the Fire Drill

Yesterday holds together

like a pup dozing loose

in the arms.

Rust theories

fly through absent corridors.

Winter darkness shines like a bell.

Look at the moon, says yesterday’s Aaron.

Coatless, both of them.

The commonality of love,

its steady, durable pain and sweetness,

buttons itself to various skies.


Stacie Leatherman is the author of two books of poetry: Stranger Air (Mayapple Press) and Storm Crop (BlazeVOX Books).


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