feeder
       

The mouths of the dead are always

open. Quit

                  running your trap. Lean

back. Let the plover eat the leeches off

your tongue and call it symbiont:

mistletoe; you grow so attached

to the apple. Come rain. It's the perfect

stopper.

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Copyright © 2012 Beth Bachmann All rights reserved
from the Southern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission