In a period of recompensing—
making amends, as for damage or loss,
or trying to do so, never having known
how often or how thoroughly, or whether
even to wash rice—there was an animal
in the apartment with me, worn out
from her vet visit that day.
My attempts to wear a coat of fog
were slouchy. I slunk into a demonself
and liked the fade. So busy in my room
I did not know—I did not sense
the slowing and evaporating.
Emily’s new loom
is a quick-moving, inexhaustible
machine.
I.
My brother calls me Liesl all
through winter /
precipitating / the month our
mother kills a tuna
in the sink / thimbles garlic /
antivivisectionist / remaining
eldest / wrap the fish in foil /
take a vitamin every day this
year / my beautiful father left
to stop the war / my captain /
my prow / my ocean ending /
my open rain rolling yard
down / his shadow touching
the estate / my brother in the
kitchen deep / tempering
dough with ice water / fill me
with ice water / put a tuna
steak frozen on your tongue /
bear it / whistling / you
would never fire that gun
II.
Dear Rolf / stop /
I needle a new sweater / knit
clenching in the purple dark
/ don’t stop / I don’t know
what I ever saw in you
/ Dear Rolf /
salt me / don this /
III.
I teach my brother oysters /
will you remember his name
my father rips a flag down
from the balcony / a big party
/ tall always / taller /
decorated with tassels
pale slips / coming in from
the storm / why can’t you
hear me / little shells of them
flattening / hand in the
water / I listen to singing in Swiss
mountains / black circles
getting slicker / he thinks I will be
married / but he doesn’t know
—
Thanks to The Atlas Review.
You guys, I agreed to take the late-late shift tonight, meaning I start working on the thing I have to do when it comes in between 1-1:30am. I’ve been here since 5pm with no actual work to do, but that’s normal. What’s n o t normal is that I didn’t realize I was out of juul pods. Even crazier, I forgot my ID card today (of all days!) which means if I leave the office to go to the bodega I won’t be able to get back in!
There’s no one else here.
Supplies:
So it looks like I’m smoking my last cigarette in the C**** N*** bathroom kinda soon. Gotta pace myself. I found an extra juul pod in the bottom of my bag so I’m not despairing yet.
OK, I’m being really dramatic, but I am imprisoned in this office. Sure I could leave, just walk out, but I’d almost definitely be fired.
To my left, out the window, the Empire State building is lit up in the following colors: red, pink, orange, and green, in honor of, I shit you not, some fucking pharmaceutical company. It’s #RareDiseaseDay. If I sit still long enough all the lights will go off.
I’m listening to Samantha, that off-brand Toro Y Moi album. This song has a clip from The Notebook in it, Ryan Gosling saying, “I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. They have a two second rebound rate and you’re back doing the next pain in the ass thing.” I’m playing it full volume on my very decent computer speakers because again, I’m alone.
I’ve managed to pass four hours. I texted a few people. I remembered a song I used to like but couldn’t recall the title or the artist, so I killed forty minutes searching. I bullied someone on Facebook. I sent an embarrassing DM to a poet I like, an informal solicitation, but I fucked up the name of his book (even though I genuinely loved it). I posted on Instagram. I tried to read more of Seasonal Associate but it was just too on the nose. There are a number of other books here that I could consume but it’s hard for me to read to pass time, I have to feel like it’s something I’m doing of my own accord or I can’t enjoy it.
Each next event
is a hole in a line:
your hands in a lamp’s
small circle of light
shortening a watchband.
Miss Forceful Wants You 