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excavated
chambers beneath the arena floor curving back from her feet
and thin decaying top ridges of remaining stone walls
met
of the Colosseum in the photo
It is
smile
hers
* * *
aligned
with Saint Peter’s Basilica
the fountain at my left the photgraphs right
dwarfs me
floating
like a plumb line weight, large
as the spire
reaches
above the cropped
I remember the heavy knife in my right (your left)
pocket
The long line of people being frisked
* * *
Neither of us in the photo of Christ’s index phalanx.
a blur across the reflexive
try, or I will to remember the face
between the few tender
bones
sifted do you or do
I
know now who?
* * *
I smile
as if Stan Laurel
the room was smaller than either
believed
we kept the windows open
* * *
set the juice on the cold sill
should be cold by morning
* * *
you were so sick
for 3 days
so we took a picture.
the protrusion of you
on the bed a brass half
of a circle mounted
midway up the wall and the quarter
of bulb
overflowing
* * *
Our Orangina
on the sill
is a knob
on the rectangles
of the Hibiscus
hotel
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JAMES BELFLOWER holds a Bachelor’s degree in Music from Arizona State University and is a Master’s Candidate in Creative Writing at University of Colorado at Boulder. His poetry appeared in or is forthcoming from: 26, First Intensity, Phoebe, and The Banyan Review among others. His reviews have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Octopus, New Review of Literature and Xantippe, and he is a regular reviewer for Barrow Street and First Intensity. James’ awards include: The Banyan Review Poetry Competition Finalist, two Jovanavich Awards for his manuscripts Friend of Mies van der Rohe and Site, as well as honorable mention in the Milton Dorfman Poetry competition. He is currently working on a collaborative project with J. Michael Martinez and Anne Heide entitled, “The Care With Which There Is.”
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