Hindsight

Poem by Brooks LaBella, photograph by Audrey Melton

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to be innocuous and laconic

and not just drowning 

In the warm rage of 

loving someone’s guts

no, I’m not mad

even in the pulp of it

aren’t you?

until the regret evaporates

(or doesn’t)

there’s a part of me that  

clears out to the core

but it’s not most of me 

and this still 

not bringing me 

back to