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Keeping Quiet

Cliff Saunders

There’s music hurtful and helpful

pouring into my skin. Sounds like


one fine mystery inside another.

Sounds like silence making glass.


To the moon I will jump

with a pot of harvest in my hands.


To the moon I could cry or scream!

I’d just like to know how wishes


are burdensome to each other

and how to catch yard balloons


miles from home. I’ve changed

my mind about trying to escape the subject,


but I still remain silent when the oil

of human suffering inches closer


to my kitchen like the sound

of soaking rains on Tuesday nights.

Cliff Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and This Candescent World (Runaway Spoon Press). His poems have appeared recently in I-70 Review, Plainsongs, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Packingtown Review, Book of Matches, and The Flatbush Review.

David Earl Williams
My Nature

Edward Lee
Stripped of All We Know

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