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Buried Star






The window comes and goes

Scathed voice the face invisible

I mistake my son’s rash for water

His legs float up between the night and

My face in the mirror

A boy’s ball in the marsh floats above

Trees shot through the dirt car frame

The shade of her eyes

Skin untangled

Someone is being asked to leave on a horse

Like the river to be easy





Cassie Vogel is a writer living in Brooklyn. Her work can be found in NEW, Keith LLC, and elsewhere.