by Craig Greenman
How to express the quiet.
Two dirty tissues,
grease beading on a plate,
I prayed to you this morning,
curled into a fist. We call this
the fetal position. My abdomen
drooped –
the weather has been fine. Today
was a delivery,
l’économie, the time
was stated approximately.
I feel the bones in my back. Ambulances
and grasshoppers. I know
I’m anxious with no cause, but you
are a liar.