by Kat Giordano
jogged to the river today to escape
my friend's dead wife,
who runs six-minute miles.
this pic in my phone of him
feeding the baby alone.
this thing I can't say: no
slack for the living, the thankless
toil of our lives. how they punish us
all, in the end, getting used to it.
I won't let you run from me
sleeping. I'll invent a kind of work
that makes you free.
on the day your hate
tries to crystallize,
I'll be sand-sized,
holding atoms hostage
from the bottom of a big hole:
say you love me
and love will follow.
show you're staying
with the shape of your hands.
later, in the montage,
my gaped heart throbs before you
like a prolapse.
______
Kat Giordano was born in Philadelphia and it’s been downhill ever since. They are the author of three poetry collections and one novel. Their latest collection, Thumbsucker, is available through Malarkey Books and wherever else books are sold. Kat tweets at @giordkat. Kat is very cool. You love them.
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