After a burial it's no sin to leave town. Cool white space was the only man that I could want. Maybe burning memories for ten months straight opened ground for deeper needs. -- the kiss on the nape of the neck, a hand on the face. You said you learned tenderness in war time. -- For days I've wanted just to hold you again: strong, wild, and clear as a cat's mind to recognize it.
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Norwegian-American writer Mia Kirsi Stageberg first published with New Directions as a regular contributor to their annuals. Based in San Francisco, she has worked as an art writer, researcher, nonprofit fundraiser, editor and cloth sculptress. |