by Amy Hollowell, after (pl)ace by jill d. and Box of Sky by Amanda Deutch
Utopia occurs heavy with tits, spilling naked on a torn ochre couch
unstuffed. Color is full frontal
without reconfigurations of mercantile primacy.
It’s a painterly unmasking from above, implicit with sky. Dirt in its place
is where we are, thick with grace, where we have all been before
cushioned in the flesh of folds
unboxed. Body hair darkens what remains ancient in us
and unabbreviated. Shadows too are bare. From behind,
boots filled with motion reflect
the language of as it is.
Tuesday poem #639 : Lauren Peat : long division
13 hours ago
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