Thrush Poetry Journal
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Ruth Baumann

Hunt

What I have put up my nose could kill small countries. There are strains of loneliness like any other disease.  I 
apologize if I never heard you yelling, if I’ve been mispronouncing my own name. The legs in my eyes uncurl & 
sleet does or does not fall – the object is home. The object wears white at a funeral.  The object is the ultimate body 
to fit all the past, present & invisible bodies into.




Ruth Baumann is currently an MFA student at the University of Memphis, & Poetry Editor of The Pinch. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in birdfeast, failbetter, Mixed Fruit, PANK, Revolution House & other journals. She attended the Squaw Valley Writers Workshop in 2012.




Return to March 2013 Edition