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The Majestic by Jared Sagar


My mouth ascends to your volcanic plateau.


I up and down your curls as if a stormy sea voyage. Grope you forensically.


The movie is a loud, intermittent crisp. Sometimes I think the seat exists.


Anxiety whispers, take this coil of rope, you will accomplish nothing.


Popcorn sellers file away like pavement ants, your face hardens to a glass

as I crown you actor of the week.


Having been passed through the hands of others, the milk you deny me

has its drawbacks, thus I am teetering on the brink of closure.


I have the smell of night around me, a thoughtful fly ahead


licking my boot before its cardiac arrest.


Ice age mammals and unsweetened porridge cease to work.


I spew sticky sick on an already sticky spring-layered floor.


Only minutes away: the sun, electrolytes.


You’re not who you thought you were.


___________

Jared Sagar is a writer living in Norwich, United Kingdom with his partner Clare and hamster Gertie.


These poems were chosen by Anthropocene Guest Editor HLR.


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