I found my legs in the silverware drawer
this morning where the spoons used to be We haven’t had utensils in four evicted roommates seven heartbreaks three hundred forty-seven thousand November Rains Last night I saw the alibi under the bed slicing up the living room rug with my legs I saw him because he was wearing my eyes like earrings My body hasn’t been fashionable since I was born perhaps I’ve been wearing it wrong My alibi dances as though he knows my intentions better than I ever have If there is a name for this dance It isn’t mine I have forgotten how to name things: emotions pets the people who name things Tonight I am feeling Diet Coke flat It’s the knowing that I am an improperly arranged potato head That some drunk nature built me with a foot in my mouth hole and I didn’t notice until someone pulled my legs off
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What Is This All About?This page is where the content from previous poetry blogs have been condensed. It's not on the menu, since most of these projects are over, or on hiatus, but the posts are still here to peruse. Archives
March 2023
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