i cannot care that you have left me!, says Isa.
previewing that slim middle finger to a teacher
smiling, reacting accordingly,
anticipating complaints because she is
too expensive
inefficient
unresponsive.
to fall under-capitalized to a nation of rats!
a slip of a soul stuck in a bear suit.
you are swift and mean
uncommunicable when it comes to veins and skin.
to conversing with blood and hushed tones and even more,
a wound. to call upon the cunt as a wound
friendly being, bleeding. to speak freely.
to sparkle in the light as if, a natural purity.
Isa, tiny, comes dashing out of some sexual organ misplaced
like a strip of bone caught in the crossfire of lung and heart.
Isa, wailing, one eye bent forward
diffracting
into
the
nature
of
things.
to press a hand behind a hinge, to leaving it alone.
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