I look out over the field where we made love last night the hum of the power line and faint sweet smell of cordite in the air and wonder wonder when we will bring a child into this world wonder if we can bring a child into this world wonder if we will name that child The World a patch of dried grass is crushed where our blanket lay I and the great love of my life and for a while the family dog the juice of our life has seeped into the ground and if it rains maybe a flesh-colored flower will bloom a physical reminder to mark the strength of our love my confidence makes you beautiful in our eyes I want you again to come with me to that most ancient of worlds
About the Poet:
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Collective Unrest, Cough Syrup, and Blood & Bourbon, among others.
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