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88 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2023
They extract a girl
a gift of gold
Supposed to be mine.
We bury her in blue
—cover in sand
grain-sized pieces. (“Mine”)
It takes three days to order eggs sunny side up. I draw a gold sun setting on an island of colour blind. The cook pinpoints the words, mata sari. I taste them individually, in turn. Eye. Cow. Bull’s eye.
What if I were glass?
my bones fired sand
fragility brownout
coddle my delicate glaze (“Shatterproof”)
You’re expected to smile
when the gauze grazes
you wipe away my piss
your sex
Lust lost to catheters rent
shame is catalyst—
Urine-soaked tracksuit pants
bodies touched are seen. (“In Sickness”)
In jeans
solidarity surrounds wounded fruit
Hounds’ bare teeth outraged by unjust decree. (“Impossible Jeans”)
We face down
the Anthropocene
sieve breath
through plastic
fragments of death (“To the Sea”)
East of Eden two-by-two strips of grass for Troy to mow and elevated plots. But for now, the mobile dog wash parks and the spray-on-tan entrepreneur reassures, “you can be anything with a tan”. (“Outer Suburban Fog”)