Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Fifteen Winter 2007 |
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For an Old Address: after Koch Andy Trebing Desperate after Xmas, through a warped pane I watched your lawn sink, saw rain reveal a stump’s roots. I was packing. I left you my New Order cassette, my growlite in your bomb shelter. That was accidental. From above, you are only one tooth in the dog’s snarl that is the place I am most truly from. There is no English word for “fuck you, House,” so I have hoped each tornado would unscrew you, lift you, would spread you like dandelions. |