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Kalyn Livernois

None of Us

​Into a bath, I take tea and a book I cannot forgive:
it killed the dog. Today, I saw fields of lupine. They grow
 
on racemes, colored like strawberry milk and grape chewing gum—  
lush in the field on TV while I eat pizza in a place where the waitress

has a black eye her swept hair doesn’t hide. I think I should feel
sorrow for her    but I could be wrong    and if I said something
 
I might embarrass us both. What could I offer anyway? My mind
is the mist obscuring the moon. My mind is the horse
 
fenced in a field. Why do we worry like we do about how long
the stray chin hair has been there; the tragedy of spinach stuck
 
in teeth; about backsides perhaps too small? None of us
are getting out of here alive. I saw the bruise. I saw the dog.
 
She died by machine. She sleeps by the side of the road.

Biography

Picture
​Kalyn Livernois (she/her) is an MFA student at New England College. She lives in the NC mountains where she moonlights as an oyster shucker in training. She is a prose editor at Cobra Milk and the managing editor of Variant Literature's journal. Her work has most recently appeared in Door=Jar, Anti-Heroin Chic, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. You can find her on Twitter @kalynroseanne.
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ISSN 2639-426X
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    • Issue 30
    • Issue 29
    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions