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Carrie Hohmann

I Use Love Like a Scapegoat Too

 

 

If my mornings started out with Russian roulette

I might actually do more with them

 

Hemingway said something about

the loneliness that surfaces

after each wasted day

 

I don’t know how

to get my imagination

back  There

 

are star stickers on my knee

from tea this morning

 

I had the perfect opportunity

to slap someone yesterday; I didn’t take it

 

Maybe I’ll finally get over you with all this

good weather

I want to fill these envelopes

with hornets, mail them to you

 

 

 

When You Asked Me if My Dinner Selection was a Secret

 

In recent months I have questioned many clocks

and never once found

the answer to an empty bed. Adequate

is a word that can sound perfectly emotionless but can serve

as a raincoat. I haven’t tried very hard

to make this work. I don’t even know

if the things I make up

are better than the ones that actually happen.

I don’t even look at you : I am filled with a foaming soap.

There are cravings that include

    horizontal lines     hands   a clear night sky   red

     For once there are too many

silent frames, too many holes to fill.

For once these arms will remain stationary.



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