Left To Thieve My Day

A collaborative poem using predictive text

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Reunion

what if we flip this crimson doubt release each expectation lark to skies refilled from looming drought would we still form a question mark beneath astonished flannel sheets our viscous whispers drench the dark forgotten hist'ry made complete would we still form a question mark If I'm omega hanging, high, above the finite point you …

Quicksilver

Can I be your quicksilver—that slick Forever, that satiny poison you long to have near but are too afraid to taste? (Even the shadows under your feet radiate) And may the line you walk between the steel pillars of this city, the threads you lay on gum-speckled sidewalks, down regretful subway tracks, and over the rocking …

The Seventh Wife of Bluebeard

I am unlocked. I paint the 'closet' red so there will be no doubt, braid six wreaths weekly—one for each wife, each murder. Still, his specter looms in the wallpaper, the coatstand. Six candles flicker in the darkening room; I whisper to them nightly, thank you, thank you.

Tether

Cal noticed when I walked into the bakery. He wiped his hand on the black sky of his apron, and a shy smile had spread across his face before the doorbell finished chiming. The smears of flour at his hips made me think of sex. I decided to sit as far from where he was …

Mount Baker

Your eyes are spoons and forks. You ask me, "Above the clouds, do you sleep?" I nod and show you nylon sheets, metal rods, carabiners, every magic charm needed for floating thousands of feet above. You ask me, "Do you enjoy the harnesses and helmets? Is it the perspective you most enjoy?" I don't say it's …