Her news

Hi, everyone
        White shoulders
In circulation as a 1936 perfume
        In the news, we are teeming in our mother—her news
On the tables
        My job on the day was to sweep dignity very tidy
Our parents were once alive, for the most part
        In a dreaming of a completion
In an entering of the war
        Hubris in the literature of place
It takes weeks and months to see the horror of a clean man. Why
        The letters take so long to travel
Perhaps this is the right development
        As I can type out my metage now but there is no period––
Something is going on and made germane
        American materiality better known in the period’s past
Putting perception into a telescope bias begins to weigh less
        Mother steps on the scale and gets smaller and smaller
Now is a reproduction of substances to drink
        A reproduction of weekend
If in my lifetime garb—the guts of immemorial—precedes
        Summons is a barb eating a pause
They say there is an ethical challenge
        Shoulders sink ships and ships
Affording food is in the skeuomorph mind
        I perform the civilized confidence


Reprinted with the permission of the author.