h o m e........
Sparks a tear, titanium.
Paraclete at the door, no-nacre pearl, leech
pegged, my dear
Your tongue your tongue your pretty
now that the braces
gall, certainty, reckless and future
I dreamed you
Death’s first cousin, once removed.
until Republicans throw a Bible at it, I suppose.
“Give a man a free hand
than William Randolph Hearst
to pull bombs and plant bank jobs
but one more
to Westchester County’s radical charity wing. Pension,
blind albino inchworm
nourishing the same old shit that passes
“Divide years of service
I wish I knew my worth. Could calculate
so disoriented she could only be shot
to steer that staggered effigy
My hands shake minutely. My comfort shoes
but my kid
forget the inchworm crack;
If you are still there, listening
at the end of my line),
raw for hours if that will please you.
Whatever future loyalty disburses
If I can just keep working,
BIO: Dorothy Barresi is the author of four books of poetry: American Fanatics, Rouge Pulp; The Post-Rapture Diner (winner ofan American Book Award); and All of the Above. She is the recipient of two Pushcart Prizes and Fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the North Carolina Arts council. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals including Poetry, Ploughshares, and The Kenyon Review. She is a Professor of English at Cal. State University, Northridge.
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