so i would know i didn't need them
once and for all.
sometimes i wish for dissolution:
cats' knees and fishes' tongues and
bags bigger than the gnawing cavern
of my appetite. these nights of
wet shoulders, pierced perspicacities,
the way it tastes when you lose yr umbrella.
"it" being all the circumvention
i can swallow, "it" being
that overexertion, and those
loose, easy hips. he says i've got
cheeks like no one else, but all i can think about
is how nervous i get when she sees me
staring.
november critical mass:
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