The Manchester Review
Kerry Hardie
Three poems
Poetry
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Love

Night—
I’m having a nightmare. In Russia.
It’s snowing but nobody likes me.

I pulled my body
tight against his.
Everyone likes you.
Especially in Russia.



Morning—
They didn't. He spat toothpaste.
I went back, they still didn't like me.
I was searching the drawer
for two socks the same.
Outside the window,
the first frost of Autumn.



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