Poetry from the Future: “A Wave” by Jared Sagar

Sometimes a whole year slips by. Verity said the Inuit died as ice closed around their meat-holes. There is always skin, skin on ruins, trawls in chlorine. I wave moronically at widow peaks, a window’s orange fire, at bone receding cringe, pink telluric kids inspecting jetsam in the illusional pool. My reptilian friend, welcome, can…

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