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Madeline Weiss


I met someone I said

He wrote all the songs for Lilo and Stitch

He knew Juliette Lewis when her hair was short

and he calls me all the time

I said this to you over a text message

I said this when I had the dream

of your friend who moved away

that got hit by a car in my dream


We were in basements when we called each other again

You asked me about Juliette Lewis and I said that I didn’t know

what she was up to and who she was sleeping with

You told me you met a woman who is small

and owns a dog, you told me this over a text message

I said it was nice


In my dream I had to console the family of a man

that I slept with one time as they watched their mother

get hit by a car and I saw it, in my dream I defended you

and your friend and all the people who get hit by cars

I didn’t want to call a composer or Juliette Lewis


only you. I was stripped naked when we called.




I keep remembering we in a murky beginningland pile.

I sort through the snapshots of the two of us in a house

at the top of a tree in a forest where all the trees and houses

are black silhouettes.


You are walking away from the house and looking back at me

out of my window I can only see the black outline of you

the hole of your mouth is a spyglass as you yell and throw me

a tin can.


I put this in the pile of me refusing to buy shampoo for your apartment

to keep everything temporary and very very sweet.


There are other piles that taste like old whiskey mostly. There is a pile

of just you and your faces and it tastes like bitter cider.


Mostly I hang the photos of the things that you said all over the walls,

they drip like a hydrogen peroxide assault in a house at night.

The things that you said are black silhouettes too but I keep your open mouth

so I can stick my fingers inside of it and whisper


that I’m talking to someone new, he is a holy man.

You say this is only the best.




This was the early morning,

this has always been the best time.


My stomach was empty and you didn’t sleep next to me yet.

Our clothes were always a little bit damp

and we were always a little bit thirsty.




My pine

the bitter sap of your tree skin

a forest of trees that are bare for 50 feet.

In your boxers for the first time

I feel the babies of little rats under my skin.


In your boxers for the first time you are a wildfire

I have felt the boxers of men before and

the press of worn cotton

I know.


I’m half lying, evergreen.

I wonder what you feel in my underwear for the first time

I wonder what words there are for it

the press of fabric

I know.




I tell you I’m talking to someone

you tell me that’s good.


I think you have me memorized.

It was harder for me.




The feeling of you for the first time is

cold where I sit, cold on the inside.


feels like a stampede of rebel antelopes

feels like the lions that attack the antelopes


tons of big cats are aggressive

lions panthers jaguars tigers pumas cougars


all of these big cats sleep at night

they lay their big heads down like we do.


we feel like big cats and the antelope at once

we are both fast with rattling organs


we feel cold like drinking water

water is where the antelopes and cats agree.


I look up at your face for the first time

your eyes are closed

I know.




I ask trees if they are alright with mist turning brown

They nod, they say yes ok.


I wrote a thousand of your name

sent you a thousand of me through

text message and you never respond.


I’m in your bed for the first time

I hope the muscles of both it and you

will always remember this

my prayer to the big trees

I can’t beg you much more.


Thinking about my devotion and the trees

agree with a majority vote.

The charred trees are warning me

I hush them, whisper.




I don’t know what to say at this point.

We are sucked into mud.

There is a radio station that has the hum of your hearing

Cathedral songs, but a trumpet hops.


There is a radio station of me somewhere

I’ve never found it, you find it one night

in the lavender. You sing the songs that play

but you can only repeat them.


I have no idea who I am or who you are

but next to you feels like something

more real than my name and your name.

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