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Settlement by Zoe Davis


The last of you crumbles 

through calloused hands.

I am left

with a better grip on reality

little else.

Where once a body grew

calcite ruins 

your outline.

If you had become steam

I could have watched you drift        away

                  become rain

seen you again

refracting on a blade of grass

mirrored in conservatory window

nails on glass

begging entrance.     

But you are here

where I must leave you 

or scoop remains into pocket nestled

layers of denim, earth, wood

corporeal trifle of death

by a thousand cuts

beginning with the severance

of my tenantless heart.

Zoe Davis is an emerging writer from Sheffield, England. A quality engineer in advanced manufacturing by day, she spends her evenings and weekends writing poetry and prose, and especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. You can find her words both published and forthcoming in publications such as: Acropolis Journal, Strix, Illumen Magazine, Full House Literary and Broken Antler. You can also follow her on X @MeanerHarker where she's always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat. 


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