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Unhitchery |
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by Melissa Broder
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1:49 |
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Soon Ann Simons runs me backward down the street,
pee running up my leg. Soon we unsqueak
the bedsprings while your Ma lies next door, absorbed
in her Corinthians. Soon. Soon I drop out
of my own poem; the skull on the wall
reverts into an antelope, its heart
itching for the woods. Soon the incense sticks
unburn, the air conditioner returns
to Carrier’s brainstorm soon. Soon the street
crosses a car, The White Album comes before
Rubber Soul, the L train stuffs itself
in Canarsie. Soon you get hungry
for what you never used to have. The star
of Mama Mia! stops the music
and says, When I was a child I didn’t get
enough attention. Okay, I got too much
attention. Soon the accident happens
after the news. Andy Warhol stays
dead. The mouth pours the mead. Soon the cars
are beaten by the horses rusty.
Melissa Broder is a poet and literary publicist in New York City. She is currently in the MFA program at City College. Her poems have appeared in The Blue Jew Yorker and The Orange Room Review.
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