Negative numbers never been on no Sesame Street.
sending the petition
round these streets
invested in the development
elected by the combined
relinquish the forbidden
obtained through power.
Born and borrowed.
I’ve started a sponsor.
Wrecked waiting for the water
gave and gathered,
smothered under a managed promise.
on New Years Eve
while street light
peers through block glass
in the bathtub stall.
the last five hundred,
twenty five thousand
so you can start
the next year clean.
Swear to God by Emilyn Brodsky
This year, we gave away a bunch of Artist Trading Cards as gifts. Here is one card from that series.
The rain pitters away on their window.
Swirling. Clutching. Salivating.
The rain patters down our roof.
I drop a drip of spit on to the carpet.
A small pool of forms.
I dip my big toe in.
My sock sticks out its tongue.
Laps up the moisture.
Saturated, I become uncomfortable.
Pulling. Grabbing. Ripping.
My sock is thrown across the room.
I pick up debris as I walk barefoot around the house.
Gritty, I become uncomfortable.
Meetings on Mondays make the weekend die in strange ways.