July Westhale
the loneliness empire
Someone helped me out of a chair. Someone helped me out of a pickle. Someone helped me out of a womb. Someone gathered the globemallow from my yard. Someone left a Post-it for me to find: javelinas will get into your trash. Someone flew over my head. Someone let me to cut in line. Or they didn’t, but I still cut. Someone trimmed my bangs. Someone said a prayer. Someone lit a match. Someone wrote it down. Someone got the last word. Someone took my pulse. Someone walked on the moon. Someone liked me back. Someone cursed my name. Someone dreamed me up. Someone ate my plums. Someone ate my heart out. Someone’s my plum. Someone’s my trash. Someone outed my heart. Someone pickled my womb. Someone found my line. Someone wrote my prayer. Someone pulsed my weeds. Someone matched my lit. Someone mooned me back. Someone trounced my curse. Someone ate my like. Someone mourned my bangs. Someone flew over my head. Someone flew over my head. Someone said we are in this alone.
