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Faults Are Present

A poem

Published on:
March 11, 2019
Read time:
1 min.
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This present basin
whose floor is marked
with low ridges
and the plate
that moves wreath-like

How fingers meet
how bones in the hands
are loose they rattle
and the earth’s sediment forms
magnets in green-violet ears
hover where north and east
are unzipped as a ribcage
pulled from nights like these
the plate is hot
and eroding borders

How words get inside
forming as faces
orange garnets to swallow
summer-lit bruising to God
to the I and the am

Amy Orazio
Amy Orazio’s work has appeared in Bitterzoet, Gap Tooth, Pidgeonholes, Synaesthesia, haparral, Timber Journal, Ruminate Magazine, and TheCurator. Her first collection of poems called Quench (CW Books), is available on Amazon.com and her website, amyorazio.com. Amy lives in the uncool part of Portland, Oregon with her husband and two tiny sons.

Cover photo by Jim DiGritz.

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