A Parable

by Cassandra Coale

I heart you. I lung, liver and lymph you. I tongue tendon.
Meet me at the bald spot of the day, in your quietest shoes.
Meet me under cover of night, features shadowed with eerie Frenchness.

How cool is the room inside my room: breath of dark.
In a skirt, I’m a skirt of steak; known not for my flavor
but for my tenderness.

You hunger, hunt, an evil so complex it can drive a car.

I leave to where there are no roads, but you are
God’s awful silence over corn. In cow eyes, in audio of rain.

Cassandra Coale is a student at Kenyon College and an astrologer. She likes to walk at night. 

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