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Salvo

By Robert Beveridge
Fall 2020 | Poetry

Summer came and went

without the expected

preponderance of new life

forms. We ran against

the sun, tried to eat the moon.

All we got was seawater

and hands that melted

every morning only to grow

again at sunset.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Blood and Thunder, Feral, and Grand Little Things, among others.


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