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QUIET LESION

It’s not a choice

What we do in sleep 

Mercy killing


3:06 a sprout 

of yellow crowding 

the person you 


don’t love an emptying 

of thought can’t get to it all 

in one session how do you 


like it on top or from 

wrist pressed flat

your snow of tongue

 

forgot 

to shave my legs

today less air pressure 

               

in my job search

more realism

in my twelve dollar 


milkshake my glut 

money spends better 

than if I aged my skin 


with labor I age 

my skin with labor

every day 


new death certificates 

print monday

on my throat

 

remorse tastes 

like fennel I imagine

the bottom of my love


returns each morning

with the toast some 

choices I make 


serenity blend 

plus honey wait

for the flavor


center my hips 

for the work

identity depends upon


health benefits

burn the death in

non-working fireplace


but the smoke only 

makes me tar full

a beautiful little dark


my tea / my ritual

this movement in my chest

reminds me  



(getting older only means you like other people / less)



a track pad developed 

for my particular pressure

sensory details

I trace

the google map 

of how


I got here weight 

in my belly says

I am a woman now 


there is nothing you can steal 

from me above the fridge

containers with possible


use someday a hand searching

my skirt for follicles 

leftovers: another box


inside there sits a threat of odor 

in this cab ride growing

older as the fare does


it’s a little magic trick

I can be as bad as him


just don’t tell me how


beautiful I am today or

stop me while crossing

the street I’ve got this 


I can be just as bad

alone in the backseat 

afternoon shut inside


the lover taken against

a wall / mauve flowers

liter box of wine holding


myself against a stranger

on the Q   pole between us

velocity of coming 


to a halt

don’t tell me

       this isn’t a bedroom


I have eyes don’t I

have a mouth 

so things are pretty 


much the same

only this body 

of water is dying


or is dead already 

a constant

drip to the flood


letting you rush 

a part of me

I’ve never fully owned


 

Posted 11/13/14
PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN SOUVENIR
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