Dialogue of Losses

Sara Lupita Olivares

unnavigable, the white sun will hover without pause.

neither slanted nor crooked, a false scope covering without pause.


to trap, one must become disoriented. in each way

the mind reverses, the grasses in their own worry pause.


did it grow in the body, capability conflated with

capacity. a gesture from which we pause.


identically, the woman’s back is painted leaning forward

into the sink. in privacy to give but to initially with disregard pause.


whether trained or untrained, the hole where the eye saw. as if

an apology when passing by, the other animals pause.


I couldn’t see it. it was itself not itself, though I knew when

asked to answer yes without pause.


blue chicory along the sidewalk. with some belief god appears

uncertain. a similar meadow and the dead saying again again without pause.


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