Cold Snap

When Iím afraid I write too many love notes, I write more. Starlings nest in the upstairs apartment. Itís almost unnecessary to stand naked in front of you & shiver, but fear can be its own reiki. I play my sleep backwards until it says all the world. You tell me I havenít asked you for anything.  Iím asking who told you that.

Probable Cause

So the sun is a matryoshka doll. So I cut optimisms into shreds & make a nest. More fragile birds have survived January. I want to tell you the teeth make people more whole to me, but teeth imply bite to you. First, we need to talk about the many uses of a mouth, & how talking is its smallest.







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Ruth Baumann is an MFA student at the University of Memphis, & Managing Editor of The Pinch. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Caketrain, Colorado Review, New South, Sonora Review, Sycamore Review & others listed at www.ruthbaumann.wordpress.com.