The body free falls through history, memorializing the seventies
        after Dominique Fourcade

My body, made
from language,
touching your tongue.
Every word in
an accidental affair.
I blame
the heat of the sentence.
I blame each chance—
a broad opening
in common with inhalation—

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Copyright © 2021 Laura Wetherington All rights reserved
from Parallel Resting Places
Parlor Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission