portion of the artwork for Matthew Sinex's poetry
An Arbitrary Number of People at a Party
Matthew Sinex

I see them as straw
on a flat top stove,
talking in bags
of clanking ampersands,

diaphanous chatter-smiles:
thinly tinged grins.

Glass bricks of record skips.

Sleeping teeth in twine.

I shake hands like I’d nail
a ring to the ashes.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 35 | Winter 2012