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Three Intimations

667 days ago
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An open door of sky

if you believe


in metaphorical rapture—

palest purple


incisions of white jetstream

along the horizon


so blue you almost can’t believe

gesture isn’t spilled.





Eucalyptical light

settles in a valley sutra.


Don’t’ blink away the tears,

don’t mistake whispers for wind.





Rain-heavy leaves

can’t imagine the drought


a season in advance.

Run your fingers over them


the ones you love

the ones you love.



Amy E. De Jarlais lives and works in Milwaukee, loves gutbucket jazz, could listen to Billie Holiday all day long (again), and has been the copyeditor for Cream City Review for over fifteen years.  Her work has been published in Third Coast, Jabberwock, Hawai’i Review, Porcupine, Poetry Motel, Reed, Seawall Conducive (U.K.), and elsewhere.  Stilled Wings, a chapbook, may see a second printing sometime this year.







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