Maria Giesbrecht

HOW ABOUT

my yellow face in the police

blue sky, stranded like a lost

star. How about daylilies

in a field of cow shit

sucking sustenance like  good

gods. How about ferns

in pots as rough as a heel. How about

airplanes. And aperitif. How about I follow

you into bed with satin

hands?  How about we linger

in the hallway to hell

a bit longer? I could do this,

I could make myself obey

the earth for you.

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