Featured Poem | August

I Live in a Vision

come steep, come shroud
like your mouth       I turn to prunes
decay claymation sprawled from
the back of my throat towards each earlobe

           I live in a vision.  

we don’t taste. we don’t die.
we don’t flip up our lids and
rollback our eyes; I live in a vision

where my palms converge to touch filtered light
and to live within a body sounds like your grandfathers
cane dragging across the linoleum —hoarding a cigarette,
a baseball cap, a bald head, a red chevy cavalier that
your sister got pregnant in because she manifested
Juniper and sighed until she was touched

           I wish you knew me now.

satisfied with feminine skin     alone love in axiom
an entire casket of a person feeling pregnant with neon soul

separate from stomping leaves and moldy soda mugs,
stealing watercolors and hiding journals at the top of a tree,
drinking half & half like milk and pretending I was dead in the grass,

I wish you knew me now.
I live in a vision.  

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