New World – A Poem by Julie Hogg

New World

Survival, rich in
fat and smashed
bones for marrow,
butted, run-down,
pit-trapped, ran to
a steep place and
crashed in a gorge,
chert cut marks on
our skin cloaks, an
imperishable spirits’
shell eyed skull and
every dissection is
basically the same,
papillary muscles,
pulmonary trunk,
white hide twitching,
lithic heartstrings
hanging out to dry
in fingers bent back
on negative forms of
a human hand, red in
the wind over ice-sheets.


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