Gossiping of young girls drowns
explosions on the television,
the dishwasher hums in the background.
I thought I heard a heartbeat. I heard the world
whimper, white noise all around
disaster. I dreamed the blood leaked out
of me, strained through my frantic grasp, into a river
teeming with other lives. A haunted thread laces our every
where, light trickles through
drawn shutters, I cant slough off
the metallic taste in my mouth.
I used to fit like a goldfish
in my bathtub, hold my breath to go under
water and look through distortion. The body
is a gangly thing. I didnt know what I wanted.
Lacework. RHINO, Chicago, IL (2009).