Past Lives

By Lauren Weber

*
I dig their last hole
in the earth, flood it with birth,
then — I dig again.

*
Pyramids echo
crack crack — Drip with gold sweat,
I lust from afar.

*
Alone! I shout.
Nobody will hear in Tasmania,
just wind, and the dogs.

*
Dearest Will, I move
towards you with my darkness.
Have my body cold.

*
Leather skin sticks to worn
tile counters: coffee cold, dead
roads, rotting diners, no home.

*
Sailing through pink fluff,
my wings graze the mourning dew,
arrive for last sleep.

*
Charging onward — Fields
of dust behind us, kicking
up the tease of time.

***

Lauren Weber is currently an undergraduate English major with a creative writing minor at Flagler College. She is looking forward to her study abroad trip to Cusco this summer, as well as finishing her last year at Flagler. She hopes to work for Teach For America and continue on to graduate school to further her education in writing. 

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