echo
aftermath comes to
light that way.
before the startling
of an overheard
bubble
or fission-haired
wildflower
gives out entirely
you talk in your sleep . the elevator doesn’t
hold together
between who we were there is an
invisible girl.
by Marco Maisto
Marco Maisto is author of The Loneliness of the Middle-Distance Transmissions Aggregator, a series of poems that won the 2014 Kay Murphy Prize. He attended the Iowa Writer’s Workshop MFA program in poetry. With Michael Chaney, he recently guest edited a folio of poetry comix/animation for Drunken Boat. Marco’s most recent work has appeared or will appear soon in Spry, Drunken Boat, Rhino (Editor's Prize Finalist), Heavy Feather Review, and Small Po[r]tions. He lives in NYC. Find out more at marcomaisto.com.
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