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YOUR CART

Chris Shorne

The Apparition of Blue Mountain​

When you’ve already died, your child can be born—how strange
you see
a pair of glasses, on a nose
hands
remove them

and this fades, clouds, these spirits sweep through every tree

i was walking
down the hill in my
neighborhood and i heard this line: quiet
comes in
to the chest like a sound
the heavy treadle works

like light
trapped outside
a child’s blanket that is
the fortress no monster can enter
that is magic that is

what thousands of years of
matches can take from
a land, from the hand of
a midwife
in the fog.
​
But tonight the old woman shakes
the light
in the left hand and with the right receives
what comes through
these embers: her teeth.

Woman with purple bob and glasses wearing a t-shirt that reads,
Chris Shorne was previously a human rights accompanier in Guatemala, teacher at a queer
writing institute, and administrative assistant for the world’s largest DeafBlind retreat. Shorne
holds an MFA from Antioch University Los Angeles and has work published or forthcoming in Utne,
Bennington Review, Jellyfish Review, The Portland Review
, and Fugue.​

Art: The Moon Ownership, oil on canvas, Rebecca Pyle
  
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