Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty
Winter 2012
One Hundred Things
Jessy Randall

Some try to throw away one hundred things in one day and succeed. Some live in small apartments with purple bricks, or used to. Some gaze at their daughter curled up in a pink fur nest and almost perish from the plumpness of her sweet face. Some write appleappleapple over what they don’t want you to read. Some forget all about the one hundred things, which is sort of like throwing them away but worse. Some draw one hundred things, rapidly. Today I brushed one hundred teeth, not all of them my own.

About Jessy Randall

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