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Jami Kali

Three Poems

Elephant Wish



I take boys to stormy canals
to swallow the rain in their blood.

Shadows spread beneath our forest
and foul chants rip at that yellowed sun like

Sweet sweet symphony fingers crushing through time.

A drooling hound must worship a drunk friend like you.

Hot Days

She walks to her faucet and lights a match.

A flame shoots out like a blowtorch.

The hair on her right arm singed

she says, “Well? What do

you suggest?”

I shrug.

Water

Tribulations
had round hearts
don’t drip in
to bigger bodies.

Tributary
is a flow word
for that.

Like dis
tributaries
in dis
guise

we worry
while we fake.




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