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  "path": "/article/205878/locus",
  "publishedAt": "2026-02-12T11:00:00.000Z",
  "site": "https://newrepublic.com",
  "tags": [
    "Magazine",
    "Poetry",
    "March 2026"
  ],
  "textContent": "When the cop cars’ spotlights roved the bank\nwhere we’d been skinny-dipping\nall those years ago\n\nwe ducked into the field,\nlay parallel in a furrow\nto wait them out.\n\nMy arm brushed\nyours. That much\n\nI recall. Our nakedness\nbright against\n\nthe spinning dark\nof that wind-tossed field. And though the past\n\nstill springs up\nlike a Swiss Army blade,\nI see us\n\nnot as I would’ve seen us then,\nbut from above:\n\ntwo specks,\ntwo hungry white specks,\n\nin God’s feral iris.",
  "title": "Locus"
}