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  • Sam Hacking

Little Egret


The sky threatens with bruised eyelids,

heavy folded sheets lie low, untouched.


Smeary sweat stained tears

Grace you high within mountains,


This isn't its true meat

Bite a chunk out of sky, out of reach.


Little Egret, slender beak, slender feet.


A shoe in boat, filled up water and algae, fraying ropes.

The mud here is deep.


Pristine clouds knit together obscenely.

Swallows squabble in it.


I'm held in varying degrees of silence.