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.
