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Tralee Cotter

Dry

For you, I’d cross the desert

My body, let it mourn and ache

for thirst. The hallowing chords

of my veins pull dry.

Love, I want, but barely allow

myself to know. Please speak to me

about the novel, you could write about me.

A clan of words who thirst

to watch their cases be written. Love,

let me burn if it means you.

Let us have one night with no battles,

but peace. This is not about logic

but will, about being together,

on your time. If love was a book,

worn pages, leave me here to read

until my eyes become glass. If love

was a poem long enough

to be a gospel, let me sing

into the holy song and melody,

the sound of light. Love, stay

until the last page is turned

and words become reality.

Love, accept me, become me,

know me. Until I forget

who I was and who I wasn’t

in the desert, for you


Tralee Cotter is a junior at SUNY Fredonia, where she is studying writing and visual arts. She has helped publish SUNY Fredonia’s literary magazine, The Trident.

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