[the world is strange. and has ears.]

the world is strange.
and has ears.

i’m noticing differently
these days.

noticing the way the world rolls around my tongue:

take, for example, the phrase I speak just
to myself (and the clogged ears of a newly paved road
as i wind my way up to the city):

“i’m ready now.”

speak the words to the curtain of the rocky mountains:
my great adoptive mothers, wandering softly
and godly to the west. speak the words to the
warm, January sky: speak the words to my chest,
that deep dark place that for so long has decided to step
back from the promise of a hand that is not mine,
wrapped around my heart.

and watch the world
push your memory—the dirt beneath
my knees, your hand gently on my shoulder,
reassuring, as i dig—towards me

and watch the world
push you back
to where you once stood
before me.

Tara Labovich is an editor, creative consultant, and intuitive counsellor. She currently resides in Colorado Springs, where she writes poetry and prose circling around issues of identity, ancestry, queerness, and survivorship. Tara was awarded the first place prize in the Adelaide Bender Reville Prize for Creative Non-Fiction. Her work has been published in journals such as Ink In Thirds, Vita Brevis, Green Briar Review, Cipher, leviathan, and Owl Tree.

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