Latchkey Playmate by China Adams
You tied yarn to my neck, / a leash for the collar.
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I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.
You tied yarn to my neck, / a leash for the collar.
Loss— / is a hungry word opening up its mouth / wide enough to fit a / gold ring, a child’s / casket.
. . .somewhere between flight & fall a man i’ll eventually resemble once i’ve scrubbed these stars from my eyes breaks down at a kitchen table
The little stuff makes it okay: the hummingbirds and diatoms, the okra, the sleeping pets.
The world doesn’t know a boy is a seashell, he’s found empty when he dies.