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by Kira K. Homsher

His eyes are black as buttons, his nose

A wet beating heart.

Handsome waggy boy, nostalgic for nothing

Curled like a croissant beneath my feet.

If the sheets ever lost his scent, it would be the end

Of comfort.

I would tear up the lease

Set fire to the furniture

And twist through the unfragrant world

Like a storm with no eye.

Kira K. Homsher is a writer from Philadelphia, currently living in Los Angeles. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Kenyon Review Online, Indiana Review, Passages North, DIAGRAM, and others. You can find her at and tweeting @bogcritter.


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