Temenos by Audra Colino

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I talked to the street lights like they were God.
You can pour whiskey in this wound
at every sunset, and I’d still find a way to call it holy.
These pink bar signs heal, baby. They do.
I could kiss ‘em right up and breathe
the same air until my lips burn
and then my throat, then
blue bokeh dopamine. Tell me,
where does kneeling begin after the long drip
of falling?

Audra Colino

Audra Colino is the author of Cradle Bones with Lulu Press. A writer and actor from upstate New York, she enjoys playing guitar and daydreaming into the night.