by Noa Josef Sperber

in this poem /i am the lizard under our fridge / who my mother is spraying with bleach / through
burning eyes /i see me / bleach blond boy / trapping myself, / scales, / in a plastic box/./i want
less times / for my mother to hold things / in front of her / like that/./when i am the lizard she is /
not my mother /i am only child of / the thrumming heartbeat fridge / cold blooded and full of
eggs / incubation/./when she is not/ my mother / the kitchen is a different world / i fear the dark /
in a different way/ for at least / a moment / not the quiet or / the measured words / not the
lightbulb burning / out/i live curled in my own cupped bands / for at least a / moment of
unaligned breath / before getting thrown outside/./my mother is / not in the kitchen / we are / one
alone in the kitchen /two:/ alone in the kitchen/3) alone / in the kitchen / four

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