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Syntax Issue 10
Denver Syntax
{purpose}
  sarah louise pieplow


She does not pull hard enough. The vehement pacifist, lackluster
as he ended up, put more pressure to the task, sharper grasp
on the hair, bent the neck to more impossible angle,
ecstatic agony of disbelief, impossibility, it’s just that he was
noncommittal, distracted, disinterested, and disinterested,
he released the bow early. The huntress, now—now I see—
the huntress plies. She begins gently,
heats the body to malleability, presses me
against the wall in the stairwell with a railing in the small
of my back and trains me there for two hours, until I can
hold the pose all by myself, you’re a good girl. No joists
or splints or posts. Not a cat’s back. A sapling’s,
still in the ground. A yew, rooted, forced impossibly
to arc toward the maker’s breasts, not Artemis,
but close to. The spoon bends, the silver stem of its bones
god’s wax—o gods. Remade.
Creatures of the wild chew, chew my skin. The spine was made for this.