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  • Ella Flores

Experiment: Variable Constant

You finally fell in love, I see.

– Salo


to tear himself apart. It came to me

in a dream I forgot;

a misplaced postcard, where I tore

myself together, part

by part. Outside the ship, sirens choired,

their mouths rang like harbors, offering


safe silence. You came to me in

a life I forgot; a displaced dream,

where we danced behind our eyes

to stay warm in the trembling blue

sunset exhaling goodbye to us

in a bed we didn’t share, but where

I stayed awake to your hypnagogic

quivers; a buried impulse

from when we were made


of loud noises. It came to you a replaced memory;

an ocean losing its estuary. I have been

a problem, these moments convulsed

at your delving into my math,

organs trade with numbers, numbers

count your fingers handling the small,

metal rib you were told you were made from

from me, you can stab it

back into my stomach, reassemble,

as some watcher in the sky follows you

sketching my retinas –us trading eyes is too

graphic– we press tongues, I catch

your laughter in my mouth, my tears

on your lipcusp: our faces made

pornographic for no one else’s

pleasure, the glances we sneak each other

as God, away, looks back,


rapt. I came to you in a vision

you didn’t believe. I told you

the fictions of your life as they found

the nons, I taught you to see your future as

if it weren’t already set (but it is). The slow

seconds of inhaling, cells conspiring

to unmake you, the past dreams

of darkness where a star will

one day shine: a mother, a father,

a child, feeling the years brink

(or bless) on meaninglessness

as Huygens descends. Salo begins

Ella Flores is an M.F.A. candidate at Northern Michigan University. She is an associate poetry editor for Passages North and has poems published/forthcoming at Cider Press Review, Fifth Wednesday, and Foothill Journal.

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