place where i gulp, a tiny back room somewhere distant and indistinct, or a small house off a backroad & cozy with little turkish rugs, crayon-colored furniture and things, dollhouse-size, but alive, flexing wide like a spongy sea creature or lung. forming want. [ ] i try plying it with different tastes—tea, chorizo, avocado, nuts— but nothing doing; no more than opening and shutting windows stalls the mount to heat frenzy and returning chill; the gape stays still, shadowed like Humphrey Bogart in a trenchcoat on some staircase (stirring for a cigarette)
Copyright © 2010 by Shira Dentz. Used with permission of the author.