Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Nine Winter 2005 |
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petite waste-fields of never her Sean Kilpatrick sing traffic lullabies on city spine (her shoes lactate blue shadow) and i am made jealous by furniture the striped shrug of a couch she once laid on chairs mobbing my dinner table the six of us frown for her i measure each glass (the volume of her kiss) obsequious dishes her hands washed you i lecture the floor because it always carried her with so much love too much love she calls my answering machine every time she has sex with him i play them going at it rabidly they are a big favorite here |
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About Sean Kilpatrick |