The Devil's Quill

the volcanic belt of Vesuvius

Alexa Becker, Poetry Editor

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she floats
a stagnant river
of gasoline

the holy hour
trains less frequent
breaths rarer
eyes wider

there’s no cross
on my wall
only a nail

for a purpose
keeps the feet moving
don’t wonder what it is
lest you make waves

take care
don’t be afraid
look up sometimes
nothing matters

she sleeps
in a stagnant river
of gasoline

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the volcanic belt of Vesuvius