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Emily Heilker

conversation with the stones of césar vallejo
Rocks land in the Seine. Ripples move

closer, twist arm

back into socket. I hear you

speaking among book

stalls, propped up in their pages, hesitant

casually slouched. Who’s now

in front of a boulangerie, baguette under arm, striding

here into this future that’s already happened?

Thursdays rain down on this Made Thing. Snap

covers shut & the rocks go

plunk. I cannot get you

from me.
i could build nothing
Starlings roost
in boned eaves, infect my
dreams, murmur-
ation twisting
through nape & crown. Draw
seams together, de-


Grey, the laced sites of involution, of sentences looking
for bearing. Eye, a mirror or a glass.

Critical trans-
ition: frisson through & up—

What means starlings drag with them.
Lean-tos, nesting in the dendrites, leafed with

detritus, quaking, memory’s pink flowers. Catch

rituals: rings, like echoes,
fading, sometimes, thickening like trees. You

tell it over &


Starlings pitched pain-hum beneath lowing dreams.

Repetition lends a thread to memory.

Image constitutes in a flood of light.


flow: dragging

a corpse that won’t
sink in water.

“moving, gesture un-



Couch history

in large print. Pixels the size of walnuts—to be safe, break

all the reading glasses

in two. Twilight zone mis-

takes : a low voice doesn’t carry better than a saw’s.

The arm that holds on for millennia, a lasting stick. Gregorio Allegri pierces

Wednesday. In book’s laboratory : it took

stories to cushion the

blows. Symbolic versus the feeling

of sentences, diagrammed.

Language, an inflatable mattress : breathed.



EMILY HEILKER hails from Atlanta & has an MFA from Brooklyn College. She has previously published in places like Ghost Proposal, Sonora Review, Loose Change Magazine, & The Nottingham Review.

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