All the Way From Washington

egg me on
the black sour blood
of crushed berries
on my face and hands
seeping in swarms
a broken carapace

our disorders are the same
it almost satiates me
to be yoked to identical undertows
common denominator
of a bloodline

once I accidentally picked up the phone
you called me nancy
I had to concentrate
on crackling fragments
between words
reality a scrawl
on backs of envelopes

you went on
about maslow’s hierarchy of needs
in a line that crimped
and then unraveled

how senseless
to resist the only thing that binds
the whirring of an extractor fan
internal now as ribs
sea green tablets
the same ones
all these years


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