Mary Panke, Two Poems

Forget the Snail
Mary Panke

Maybe depression is the color of biology,
painted on genes like green-brown eyes
or chalk-blue streaks, blurred by staying under
water too long. Or olive-grey lichens clinging
to oaks, their leaves mothers’ hands calling
you back to shore, while you drift and drift, numb
in the salty sling of the tide, Continue reading “Mary Panke, Two Poems”

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