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re: touching

Sal Kang

it was an inviting tail end of summer

the kind that reminds you of warmth

by revealing the absence of it


we carried bottles of water home

from the corner store & joked

that we could make a life out of this


I relearned how to love the the same

way I learned the times table


relearned that there were still masks between you  

& I & just kept peeling peeling peeling

half expecting one of us to run


you, wrapped around my body like thick foam  

you, vanishing outside the airport


I want to love thoughtlessly in this world


it was the tail end of summer. there was a sea wind  

& you could still count the stars with your finger.

I said I love you & a sea urchin

kept blooming in my mouth




let us be stones, refracting one ray of light


Sal is a professional sluggard and occasional writer. Her work has been published in Canvas Literary Journal, The Rappahannock Review, and Yes Poetry, among others. She spends most of her free time sleeping and reading Anne Carson.

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