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omen by Kolbe Riney

Those boys used to ask me / to guess if facts were real. / A tarantula hibernates for winter/ and sheds its dark fur. / A chameleon / sleeping in its own tongue. / That one day the seas / will rise like a duvet and tuck Miami in for the night / in one fresh gulp. / And I would hope to reach / and part them like gossamer, / like netting, like the clouds / of foam surrounding my bed / in the monsoon. / Stand under a moon / heavy as a smoker’s fingernail. / Say, living / or not living, / real or not real. / Tell me in fantasy / to tell me the truth. / Am I the angel of death. / Do I not see it / every place I go. / The woman with a moondog / around her irises. / The man with his eye hollowed / cleanly from the socket. / A vulture diving a bare streak / to rest at my feet. / A black squash we found together / shaped exactly like a swan.

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Kolbe Riney is a queer poet and nurse from Tucson, Arizona. Their work is featured or forthcoming in Tinderbox, Passages North, the Chestnut Review, and others. They were nominated to the Best of the Net and their manuscript, “mythic,” was short listed for the 2021 Sexton Prize