Sunspots on a Calendar Week
by Anthony Martin

I’D LIKE to tell the sun, the persistent, pervasive sun, to get bent. I’d crease it centerwise myself, fold it once, twice for good measure, and slip it into that one-finger pocket they sewed into my jeans, but I’ve a hunch it won’t comply. It deadens the air this time of year, sitting above the lakefront like a waterproof flare suspended in a saline sea.
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