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Rachel Burns

going hard when they turn the spotlights on



my subconscious is recovering nicely

the last two days i’ve missed your bird

clinking the two empty Smirnoff mixer

bottles from you & she says IRREGULAR


i’d been trying to start a conversation

i say succulents & do not know there is blood in the basement

there is blood in the basement

& i don’t know you are bleeding you are bleeding in the basement

& i do not know why i am praying telling

you are the good bleeding in the basement red


the sky was gold & i am chanting red

but the bed is wet with water & bloody

you say huddle because we’re trapped bloody

the excess is in you & they wrapped your head in a towel bloody




too female for bees


i’m done with rogue painting

of fetish on every vault

looking at the sky, she

reminds me, this is only

a tent for garbage’s

aggressive entrance

really, you, are you good?


practice has become eroticized

you don’t look fertile, why

would i fuck you?

crystals in my teeth, everyone’s

virgin until i move them

everyone is a sex symbol

before intimacy’s made a mockery


underhandedly, pop gods speak

can you please leave this showcase

before they ask why i don’t look fertile?

flipping the game board over

every single time as saffron limbs bare

ascending speaking of interrupted paralysis  

            i want to be a god

            sleeping in gold

no one believes this systemic line, ever

my plague’s free in unplaced woods

lost from star fishing expeditions

dissimilating a nightly resuscitation

constant misspelling every words

all for luck and jump ropes.


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