Circus

1.

I cut my thumb
open
on a knife

and it believed
it was
sleeping –

the skin
puckered
like the mouth

of a fish.

The blood
was like a horse

narrowing herself
through a fence,

through a canal
into another city.

2.

Tomorrow, she said,
tomorrow –

pointing
at a pair of air balloons

that hung low
above the earth.

It was raining.

I waited for their colors
to bleed

into the ground,
to turn the apples

from the Tree to
multicolored
wisps.

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About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she works as the Departmental Secretary of English and World Language Studies at Indiana University South Bend, and remains closely affiliated with 42 Miles Press, New Issues Poetry and Prose, and Wolfson Press. She previously received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose and as an Assistant Editor of Poetry for Third Coast. Her poems have appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, Thank You for Swallowing, Whale Road Review, The James Franco Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on her website and on The Rumpus. She lives with her husband, their daughter, and three cats. For more, visit www.mckenzielynntozan.com. View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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