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When you have left me
the sky drains of color
like the skin
of a tightening fist.
The sun commences
its gold prowl
batting at tinsel streamers
on the electric fan.
Crouching I hide
in the coolness I stole
from the brass rods
of your bed.
From Ignatz by Monica Youn. Copyright © 2010 by Monica Youn. Used by permission of Four Way Books.
Roosevelt Island, New York City
The fourth is freedom from fear . . .
—Pres. Franklin Delano Roosevelt,
Annual Message to Congress January 6, 1941
The weed is the Nemesis of human endeavor . . .
—Henry Miller
Pica pica
after Martha Collins
because it is to create an acute
angle an angle shaped like a
wedge because it is to give
birth to what you already know
to be expendable after it
has cleaned after it has fed