Joanna
James I’ve been brushing
my teeth with
bathtub
bleach for a week I love you. this
my sweetest own
lonesome shower curtain
printed
with a map of minnesota. 3:42
morning you’re
Duluth harbor, my
sweet farthest
own port inland. Joanna,
sing and I’m a water-logged apple
rollicking beneath the pier. the flagging
drapery of an rv bait shack, a kite
of lips which
means I’m taking
off my skin
to stitch you bathrobes. look,
this is a violence: my heart
cauterized with JJ iron-on
patches, Joanna,
my Joanna
wouldn’t be so pretty
were you
less pretty. but this my doubt
you’d ever slim your mouth
to the word cymbidium
like my Joanna James; this my
alliterative orchid
construction, my
stupid anaphoric heart. this my hallucinating
dummy ringing a bike bell, I swear, Joanna,
I thought last time
I sold you coffee you were
trying
to hug me.
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