So long sonnetAnthony Robinson
Dear gooseflower, dear smiling wolf, dear gone-so-long, dear naked girl wandering. Smote up, smashed-through, smeared with inky blue, impaled on your small voice, kind & sharp. A kind of sharp noise: two years of voicemail, messages stuffed with fish—our stand-in, for, you know. The bachelor’s buttons twist in the wind. Frantic Frenchmen whistle at scissoring legs. Cut out this shape. Then this one. Trim again. Repeat & fill, repeat & fill. I am emptied. * Dear never-there, dear thin brown container, Dear sitting on Brenda’s knee & laughing at Laurel. How much life have I taken from you. How are you not but a fragile veneer, how can you still say [i]je t’adore[/i]?
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