poetry
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notes from biology 1409: my other lover

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all i want to do is go home
and run bow across strings
bow across strings
bow across strings
e–a–d–g–

practice makes pretty and
in this moment i am ugly–
do not look at me, do not listen
to the sounds of discontent
flow out of this body–

the toes tapping spotted carpet,
closer, the nail scraping skin
of thumb–this is not the music
i want to make–notes of waiting
and attention fallen down

a rabbit hole–what i want
is at home in our living room
in front of a bookcase
in front of a window
waiting for me

waiting to moan and cry
and sing like seahorses
smile. i have an indigo song
inside for a hard, wooden frame
with the softsoft curves of a woman–

my mother says she always knew.

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