Molly Speir

Dear, Dearest

Poetry Your fingerprints glow yellow,Dotted all over my arms,My chest.Some already graduating to true bruise,VioletEagerly pushing its way outwardsTo wish me a happy new year. Months ago, you pressed your thumb into aStill wet painting andStamped lavender pigment onto my glasses.I had saidI wanted to be able to look outFrom its insides,And you made that …

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Poetry I remember the next-door-neighbour-boy(not sure which one)Telling meThat the milky whiteness dripping from the stemOf the dandelion he’d given meWas how it made baby dandelionsAnd that it was poisonous to the touch. I dropped the flower, and he picked it up and handed it back to me.It was a gift after all. Now, I …

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