Words sometimes settle between thighs. Eye up—all night think how I don’t your shoulder brush, cough don’t, you away, leg. I don’t acknowledge your mouth when you’re talk -ing, how can you? Talking such silence between an affect. Sounding pangs liquid off every windshield tears the sky open. Tears, tears. Tears flesh like zipper like […]
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Kari A. Flickinger's poetry has been published in or is forthcoming from Written Here: The Community of Writers Poetry Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Burning House Press, Door Is A Jar, Isacoustic, Ghost City Review, Eunoia Review, and Riddled with Arrows, among others. She is an alumna of UC Berkeley. When she is not writing, she can be found playing guitar and singing to her unreasonably large Highlander cat, as well as obsessively over-analyzing the details of neighboring trees.