| Poetry


Sarah Cook


music is just miles but longer

the motion of a hand & another hand on a train

the body constantly simulates theft
the sound of which extends this plane
beyond grip   [incantatory]

internal city/space bending/remote // any three sounds will make the hand close

being empty is not simply nothing
it stretches dark color it feigns
beauty at acute angles the mark
of one’s claw crossing a tideline de-
compressing the sound of breath
or the water rushing away

sometimes the world comes
closer and i memorize
pieces of him in distinct land-
scapes to prevent my-
self from ever putting [the land] back together

land is not the true opposite of tide / you pick things up / you put them back down


Sarah Cook is a consistent mountain. A big, distracted mountain. Her poems live at the top. An MA candidate at the University of Maine, recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in metazen, SWINE, and gesture. She would like to thank dancing girl press for publishing her new chapbook, a meadowed king. She would also like to thank Oregon for being such a cool state.

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