Poetry and Prose from the Center for Writers
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by DUSTIN KEYS
She reads a book she found.
Books are free when found.
The book says strings
are everything, but she thinks,
‘Folds,’ turns the page.
Typed to a margin, then
once leaves, twice a pillow--
weight, or stolen.
As long as it's not some stoic,
some air, some fallen,
a beggar with a lisp; it is this--
that moves when she moves,
or seems to. She sets the book down.
It goes from her. Now the window
looks sharper. There is some laughter.
She is breathing still the last line.
She is unfolding the cards.
Dustin Keys is a senior undergraduate student at the University of Southern Mississippi. He enjoys and is influenced by the poetry of Dickinson, Whitman, and Hardy. He is interested in place, perspective, and part. He lives in Hattiesburg, MS, and hopes to attend graduate school someday.