is a trail of ants, another exodus into unchartered territory, to celebrate, once again, the body as perennial site of struggle. They bury their mandibles into lacerations, as though studying the depth of psychosis so self-assured in colonizing anatomies with the versatility of knives. Less methodical, the flies love to buzz and hover from head to toe, liver to vas deferens, feasting comprehensively on the prey at hand. Other critters worm through sockets and punctures in the body language of freedom acclimated for hunger and free will. The intrusion of drizzle presents an enigma, a kind of fiction amidst a season of heatwaves unable to regulate intimate encounters in a city of swelling sweat glands. Soon, the moon exhumes itself from a gathering of clouds, an attempt to rescue a landscape of ravines buried in silhouettes.

Michael Caylo-Baradi lives in California. His work has appeared in Blue Fifth Review, Blue Print Review, The Common, Eclectica, elimae, Galatea Resurrects, Ink Sweat and Tears, Local Nomad, MiPOesias, NewPages, Our Own Voice, poeticdiversity, Philippines Free Press, Poetry Pacific, Prick of the Spindle, XCP: Streetnotes, and elsewhere. He is an alumnus of The Writers’ Institute at The Graduate Center (CUNY).

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