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by Gabriela Siry


Once, my grandfather mistook his dog for a fox and shot him

from a distance, bold and blinded by nighttime

                     the way most rueful decisions are made.

When the dog was found in the morning

cradled in tall grass, stiff and wet from dew

they mistook him for a sign from God

and in the following week foxes ate twelve more hens

unhurried and assured.



Once, I mistook the red heat of the summer for love

the brush of June wind against a sweat-damp forehead

for a press of lips, cold from ice-cream

I wanted to live forever in this heat.

I wanted to curl around myself like smoke.

I wanted to devour the sun

                     and this too, I mistook for love



Once, at a party, you mistook my jacket for yours

and wore me on your back for weeks.



Maybe one day, just for a day,

we won't be making any mistakes.

So you will be the shotgun held steady and I,

the land which

                     missing the warmth of the day

eagerly soaks up fresh blood.

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Gabriela is a 22 year old creative trying to make art as an attempt to understand the world.

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