get a tree
to your anklebacks

against the rootish area

where it hurts when you land

off a jungle gym

the bone rings bland

my rash broadcasts

did you you did

grey job

get to grass

you might have to be lent a car

don’t feel lasery

but don’t intentionally bike about it

then regale about the biking

shit out there or whatever


it takes from you being such a hot dog

in this barnyard LMK mayb

four examples

I read menus
so what?

when you talk about guns
I close ethnically
unless we get rangy

my pylori strove
to hold bile so much
I went under
lost allusions
to Nabakov’s, dude
in my phone you’re no-named
a budget of numbers.

it’s like you’re old but not
it’s like you’re nice but not
it’s like you’re gross
and it’s like that’s not my problem.

please mail my briefs back
make their crust into croutons.

please clean your ears
been saying I’m bi for now.

as soon as I leave 
you’re married to the mall
shaved my head
learnt to drive semis

your jock itch 
deveins my anus
but I’m sewn 
closed as pieorgi

you require terminology
I’ll save to buy a pirogue
you hole in my sock
as soon as I leave 
you bite my obit
I’m sitting here
loving living
cackling backwards
avoiding windbreaker wearers 
a kind of raped stew
googling movers
in spectral tulle
I like to be fingered after eating fried chicken
after murder, I like some isolation
I sit on the cock of the alcoholic I live with
you’ll all die under me.

About Elizabeth Mikesch

Elizabeth Mikesch is the author of Niceties from Calamari Press and is published in Unsaid, BOMB, The Columbia Review, Spork, and The Collagist.

  • shawn

    the alcoholics are always the lucky ones…

Post Navigation