GEORGIA Sara Deniz Akant

Georgia is deep with the weather tonight. surrounded goes through it, she is helpless but reefing. the men in
the basement were talking in floorboards. she tacked up to marshland and charged for the air.

          now they are there and now they are not.
          sno iva la dente, sno ivé denog.

what matters is she has bad hands for this stuff. will pick up on dryness in the fall of the month. when the
storm had a value, she built shores in its flight. when the dunes slid to Georgia, the ocean had light.

          where did it happen? derento de bonnist.
          when was avatron? havent the foggiest.
          why kliné de lobe? bons latta, la gait.
          to der elle vontronten?
          on the stairs. she was late.

on static severe, Georgia sank in her flowers. the polyhedron shapes Georgia, going damp for her stillness. she
memorized in sand links but forgot how to find them. ripping tones through the hallway, her windows in fog.

          what a constant to dailoft, de levante
          the walls. if there is light hara innig,
          horta brink that was sought. the way
          seemed too narrow, satoro, to open.
          she slept through the breakers, hyna
          limpé, limpog.

what matters is she has bad hands for this weather. packed water for days, wrote notes in her chest. the dark
forms made shadows before their motions could start. there are souls in the basement drifting Georgia apart.

          dela heavenly host in dehyde have none.
          hacka no moosen, Georgia minsé run.