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Quinine or Curare?

Sandra Simonds

                              as if that snakeroot could lemon nipples.
                    iridescently sierra nevada: thermal days suction discordant snow
                              whereas these ‘development’ eyes awash awe in the
                              wasting flesh. diseased trees of discovery bone under
                              skin shed, shed-red in coral coiled foothills.
                    what kind of medicines come from molds?
                    almond scent: zone of warning, naming the
                              clarinet-note-shaped underbrush as breath was
                              (when horizon held) mushrooming mouth opaque
                              gills of the bomb-shelter walls we stare into
                              a sumac dusted interior
                    How swiftly do poisons act?
                              It is a lovely garden, to be sure;
                              acrid as ‘many thumbs must be sewn to
                    snowdrops, delphinium synergistic digestive distress’
                              you must eat your weight several times over
                    where water runs between grey, chalk
                                        in the barklight orange of grassgasps
                                        no one drinks it, could drink.
                    What causes milk sickness?
                              jodi (cervical claire (colon, louise (lumps beth (lung
          Is there poison in your garden?
                              {(weather) Robin’s kilometer}
                    lily me down the mountain. ice my pancreas
                              where the river creases rocks glitter my donation
                                                  limp me down a bloodstream’s wilderness.
                                        platelet tint locoweed, cell as locate, locution.
                                        contort my throat around the arsenic vowels: a tender nest,
                              pink eggs, speckle me inward.
                    Can you tell what a plant will cure by the way it looks?
                                        chlorophyll of harm headstrongs your petite umbra
                                        a lavender canoe of darling
                                        lobed like cerebellum or blackdense as liver
                                                  confiscate bunched finger to palms
                                        the cellophane melt: glacially petite ribbons

Sandra Simonds

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