calico stretch illness

by Steven J. Serafiani

I feel isolated and short, as if
gravity grew heavier during
my gaudy sleep (dreamt of
tidal waves crashing down on
my father and I in
an
amusement park)

I haven’t been drinking as much
due to the pocket moths and
I haven’t been shaving much; I
want to see what I looked like
twelve thousand years ago.

never been hot on the idea of
orange vile sanity even though
matinee anxiety runs well
into the night
cigarettes and casket poets give
me all. shuttered and poe sane,

I was born with this

illness. I am calico cat who
was given up to
roam Pennsylvania backyards.
conclude that functional is
a stretch, a lazy
calico stretch in dusk humid
june kind. born with this

illness. and when calico cat
reaches for bird, only a whisker dampens on the nightingale.

born with this illness.

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