Don't Look in the Basket
by Rebeccca Wolff
But to wind up
loving its permanence,
waking up to contents
I get glimpses, typically.
The things you tell your unborn
children: "You'll be many
different masters, but all the same
A phalanx of puppetry,
p's in ascension, preeminent;
prime minister. Excuse me:
why do you sit forward like that?
Oh that's easy (direct confrontation), because
I have this cumbersome weight on my back. God
is in the desperation
in fallopian tube
in coffee can
there must be something extraordinary going on in my face.
A long and rambling conversation.