/ˈvis(ə)rəl/

vis

—as if you could twist out your arm,
hand clawed,

wailing pagan poetry with the clinically insane
who have feigned recovery to get out &
proclaim it an escape, as if you could leap
away from already being gone.

•

(ə)

mattress on the living room floor.

rhinestone. ashtray. loose eyelash.

—as if you might lick the slickness of your
image in the bathroom mirror & instead,
taste the texture of flesh.

•

rəl

—as if you could feel the weight of gravity
spin, mouth open now: tin. blister. wool.

wrist-bone; book page. charcoal briquette.

clavicle; over burner coil. burnout velvet.

jawbone; wooden oar. dollar bill.

earlobe; baby’s breath. jingle bell.

i tried to distinguish
all my awful feelings
from how i really felt

i tried to extinguish
the fire i spread
from the one i lit myself

ripping scar tissue
the scabs on my lips
are these just the cards i’m dealt?

am i the dealer?
do i need a healer?
or more concealer?
a realist with a fake smile
i’ve been in this dentist’s chair for a while