Leveler Poetry Journal
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January 1


For 26 years I was left

to my own devices—


a peach pit

in the municipal landfill.


When we walked home

together, the silent


auction that takes place

between single people


at the bar was still taking

place. I remember an owl


flew overhead left to right

like a pinch of salt over


the shoulder. Dear reader,

I want you to know that


I have come to terms with

the fact that everything I tell


myself might very well already be

half a truth ago.

Hajara Quinn