Jocelyn Casey-Whiteman


After the explosion, I reclaim
my bones and breath.

I stand against a cruel wind to build a home
of firebrick and tempered glass

that reflects the village back.
Now and again, I fall in love with someone

who twists sheets with the enemy inside,
but if scissors snap the stitch, my heat

retreats to stay alive.
Do not go missing inside of time.

Dawn lifts in increments
as white flowers try where the highway split.

I start my car that survived the blast,
it is still the color of sea.




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