I am lips stitched over fusiform: couples kiss I taste Joy pulling brown paper bags. The drunk vomit outside my window I fall asleep faster. Memories are last of an extinct songbird loved to live miserably. Celine seizes between floating chairs dreams her face lubricate projectors. God takes the little eyes of children and bends the light. I remember emotion as I read staccato: Readers worship words. Prophet disappoints. Terminal room. Stay breathing. We send carrier pigeons. I eat canon set fires to maypoles worship the pagan god of kamikaze bloodletting fields. The oracle is buried below buttercups grass dirt.
Brandon Shane’s work has appeared in Rattle, One Art, and The Marrow. He serves as an editor at Odd Lobster.