Every Step’s Ceramic
Jessie Janeshek

when typing makes me lonely
in the winter of red treadmill discontent.
My predilection’s bladder burn
narcissism, chainsaws.
I sing your sand psalms pregnant
walking Boston bridges
in blue air bad for homeless women
bandaging choked rabbits
with stolen maxi pads.
I crack upon the lines
of my own symmetric crystal
and I just saw the paradox
in your red pores after sex.

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