Tag Archives: Kim Suttell

I Run to the Basement

You are weather to me, or not. Tilt of earth and sun: all things I can’t control are you. You’re sweat and shiver, wet and hot and cold. I measure time with your turns. I put on a coat for … Continue reading

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Lunch

The tablecloth, napkins, and the waiter’s jacket are as white as pure intentions and as frayed with rewashing as plausible stories. At two place settings they study the menu items and see no good options. The waiter will suggest prix … Continue reading

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Pure Research

My heart is a radio telescope, a silver bowl on a silent plain cocked so to hear stars, open as conjecture and pulsing welcome. I’m the dark of the moon, snug as a government grant, wrapped in your beaming crescent. … Continue reading

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