Slap,
don’t scratch it
when stung with
the magic, seen
it slunk under
skin chunking
workwheels along
to wake, sleep,
breathe deep dissolved
in other knowledge.

Swift,
zip it up
to take off
with flattened
warm black
strap slung
floated round
the back.

Scar,
pretty skin
flakes fallen.
Frame the whip
stain from
having skipped
round the
sea’s skirts.

Laugh,
at encircling
stars racing
fingers to
trace a
strange
oneway
velvet
napeline.

Kali Pollard majored in English at UC Berkeley (California, USA) while working at a sweet bookstore in downtown Berkeley. Her work has been previously published in academic literary journals such as Zaum and Words of the Watershed. You can read her work online at crotalusoreganus.tumblr.com.

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