Sataneen Lumen Määrä
I knew a short story writer who’d get furious if anyone ever wrote about rain, as if she owns raindrops—and she does. And I’m like that with snow—memories of walking off of our roof onto the snowbank without any falling, digging a tunnel to get to our mailbox and how …
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After After After
I don’t know how I will save every one of my friends each queer stitch to the blanket, unraveling I am afraid of the world I shouldn’t be afraid of the world I don’t want to be drunk and monstrous, but no one will take me …
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In Praise of Boring Sex
Sing to the body mouth-breathing beside you, a body so obvious that you are the last person to notice the thinning hair, the weary lines, the pale marked flesh. Sing to the sleeping hand that reaches out, in autonomic comfort, to knead your sagging breasts. Sing to the sharp hipbones …
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[schema geometrica] [W/RAINER MARIA RILKE] [& A TUK TUK] [& A DOG]
—I breathe indiscriminately // I kill the same // just as air does now moving through me // oxygen unstrung & grafted to blood // waste product even now in these …
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Origin Story
In one beginning, I gathered God into my hands, piece by piece, and made of Them a kind of life. And from this life came the sound of words until all silence ceased. One by one, their meanings mounted a procession upon the blank page of my death. This was …
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The Barely Missed Girls
The ash-skinned men with rifles longer than their legs Click their tongues & haggle over prospects of tender Breasts beneath their palms. Their bellies — cinched & Tucked & belted — burst with mama’s jollof. Tongues Loosened with palm wine beg for girl-wives to dine & Sleep under. A cough …
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