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[I admit the soldier saw us capture that image]

— Jay G Ying

I admit the soldier saw us capture that image

He turned to link the drier wind with the stolen souls

He must have been what, only nineteen
            twenty

            it was hardly war after all

As his mother hangs his uniform out on a loaded wire
            the last lapwing cry rounding his stiff cotton in the ceremonial fashion

Bridal husks bleached by the horizon
            white enough to be salted, to be saved

            to overcome their poor hollow anatomies

Excerpt taken from Wedding Beasts.


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