Leanne Dunic


cut stems in glass, perfume
brighter than winter light

we don’t have to be in the same room
to deplete one another

mass of green and blooms
an inevitable descent

heads throw their fragrance
as they bow to table

conditioned now
to think you smell of ultramarine

hues, my lips moisten—
your pavlovian dog

fresh and sucking
liquid, stalks from vessels

with time, petals curve
back toward stem

stamen to pistil
foundations drip

you said you’d do anything i asked:
imagine the first blow to my face

skin feeling blood

how beautiful the stars
fall, floor bound


Leanne Dunic is a biracial, bisexual woman who has spent her life navigating liminal spaces, inspiring her to produce trans-media projects such as To Love the Coming End (Book*hug/Chin Music Press 2017) and The Gift (Book*hug 2019). She is the fiction editor at Tahoma Literary Review, and the leader of the band The Deep Cove. Her lyric memoir One and Half of You comes out with Talonbooks February 2021. She lives on the unceded and occupied traditional territories of the Squamish, Musqueam, and Tsleil-Waututh people. www.leannedunic.com


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