The Belletrist

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I’m sorry I brought you into this. Dreams with spikes, wolves,
trains, beds of broken teeth, crushed & unripened cherries
of rayless maraschino, of open fires. Carnival-pink. Lute.
Lips of ice. Viscous as porcupine fruit. Dreams without
sweetness, no long walks after coffee, no salt & pepper
diamonds. Just me and you and dreams like this—
owls cow-punching bulls.

The Belletrist by Linette Marie Allen


Photo used under CC.

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About Author

Linette Marie Allen is an emerging poet earning an MFA in Creative Writing and the Publishing Arts at the University of Baltimore. She enjoys translating her work into diverse languages, often over shrimp-seared Pad Ka Praw and an ice-cold cider. Her work has appeared in Janus, Welter, and Skelter.

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