Finally! Time to type it up! Poetry project submissions are now open again!
It all happens in a moment:
The twirl of leaves, of fingers, of teeth on the eve
of breathing. Footsteps sound solid–vent-
ing the tick-tock tales of time. We are all even
with the ground–suspended slightly, arrows that move
an inch above everything. And then it happens: wings teem-
ing with itches erupt ceremoniously, a tome
of all heartbeats collected. You say: we are men
and we are: a violent event.