© 2023 by MCLA Spires. 

March 5, 2018

a pattern emerges:
I flatten myself, turn
sharp corners—make edges
out of elbows, knees, ankles, wrists.
Fingers crack with a tap.
I fold my head to my chest, chest to my waist,
waist to my knees, knees to ankles, and ankles to feet—
A collapsing woman,
taciturn mouth,
...

March 5, 2018

he was always trying to catch something sweet
perhaps a drizzle of honey from the hive of bees
that hangs from the tree in your mother’s garden

he claims to have lost his wit in the dip of your thigh.

to you, this honey tastes more like the sting
than the antidote, like...

March 5, 2018

You watch as a fork and knife are slipped into the depth of the cooked veal, and you are reminded of original sin. You hear the tender voice of your high school religion teacher, carnal comes from carne, meaning flesh. You imagine the meat from the head of the calf bei...

March 5, 2018

Doctors said she was the owner of problematic post-synaptic endings,
she heard layered noises—birds pecking at tree bark,
and picking up pieces,
of forests to build nests
with—sounds remorselessly penetrating the
sinewy tissue that connects the intimate intricacies of...

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