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by Valerie Duff

The old Norse heaves electric heat,
and breaks its spines against the pane.
I want to pick and spear what’s difficult,
to nestle the space heater,
stay in bed renouncing Iceland.

After bathing, dripping on the carpet,
battened like a boat or animal,
I want to tame what’s mineral
and mine, a great vowel shift,

dry air across a lava field. How warm
that day would be.
The chrome bores on and once
you’re in, you’re in.


Valerie Duff is former managing editor of AGNI and now teaches writing at Boston College. Her poems have appeared in P.N. Review, Antioch Review, Salamander, AGNI, and elsewhere.

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