God says you can’t abandon your children. I did that and now I’ve been forced to live like this: afraid.
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Just tell the lovely ladies of the Auxiliary,
that I’m here to speak to the reports of my demise,
which are being grossly inflated,
She blinked and blinked in an attempt to expel this obvious hallucination but instead of her finger returning to its normal shape, she watched the nail and then the entire joint disappear.
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“Yes. A lawyer, a young man not unlike yourself, forced a letter into my hand. The truth is I’m a multi-millionaire.”
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I’m contractually obligated to be sixteen twice a month
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I turn back:
a horse from the borders
whinnies in wind
hungry for war.
How freeing it must feel to be spatchcocked.
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If you care what others think, even a little (is it possible to care only a little?), then you will
become a sixteen year old girl writing poems in her notes app at eight P.M. This is supported, of
course, by a because.