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Postcard: New Year’s Eve

By Andrew Pryor
Poetry•Vol. XXVI No. 1 (Spring 2013)

That’s us   in the ice-skating rink converted to a fight
club  The guards took pain pills, let the anarchists

hit them  You used to

“not date” one of the anarchists  We were there with your dad

the time you told me no one ever fucked you harder

than that kid you couldn’t stand  The sky
an electric pink, you told me to follow

barbed wire through the dark

to look for men in animal costumes — that you could punch them
          because they were animals

not men  I don’t know

if this is the way we cannot sleep, humid nights near the hinged

wind of a highway, or the way we remember ourselves

and cannot sleep  The heart’s beating
cannot stop its apology.

Andrew Pryor teaches creative writing and English literature at Lindenwood University in Saint Charles, Missouri. Recent work appeared in Indiana Review, Quarter After Eight, and Witness.

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