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Negative Space, a poem by Andrea Lee Dunn

Negative Space

The wild honeysuckle bullied its way
into every square foot south of my driveway.
I’m unwieldy with the pruning saw, but as branch
after branch falls away, I anticipate flourishing

in the negative space,
now open for the butterflies and robins,
and hollowed high enough to stand full under
the canopy of fragrant leaves.

I wrangle the teeth of the saw
against the neck of a branch grown wayward,

while listening to a
podcast suggest that 
solitude and loneliness
are more like distant cousins
than identical twins.
Or maybe, sometimes,
loneliness is solitude,

Well muscled, it takes me
to the dark room,
and after drowning me
in a wash of burning
restlessness, it waits
for my shadow self
to slowly imprint
my drying, developing
in relief.

Andrea Lee Dunn is from Indianapolis by way of the Texas-Mexico border and North Carolina. She studied creative writing at Texas Tech University and now enjoys trying to balance a writing life with raising three children. In addition to poems previously published by Flying Island, examples of her work can be found in New Mexico Review, Southwestern American Literature, Cagibi Journal, Entropy Magazine, and the Same.