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A field of snow cairns
           Was that a kestrel that just passed

An inclination to stack
           Almost said “human inclination”

Your cigar butt looks more like a
           Severed thumb

Green bags of dog shit
           Scattered around the trash bin
Puddles of piss

           Green piss in the snow
Like lemon-lime Gatorade

           Like high-visibility outerwear

In dreams
           I am often wiping my ass in public
           I cannot lift my legs

So many starlings
           Blind spots on white branches

When I close my eyes
           Phosphenes like falling snow

Emmett Lewis is an MFA candidate in poetry at Columbia University. He studied philosophy at Vassar College and then spent a few years farming. His work is forthcoming in Hamilton Stone Review and he reviews poetry submissions for the Columbia Journal. 

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