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Who to Tell

Who to tell no one cares when no one cares
No one takes the time to care for a monster

I care for monsters
But only because I am one

I go in the dark house
With the ghosts
And the ghosts take my coat off
The junkies

The other man sits slumped in the chair
Is he dead yet?
I do not know

I know that no one cares about anything
I do know that the dressing room
Is drab and grey

And my pink patterned dress
Looks ridiculous against something so truthful

Wildness is not sadness
The wilderness is not sad
It is naked

I am not
If only because
Decomposition is
Not nudity

Who to tell this?
Who do I tell when no one cares

I did not expect them to
I did not expect them to care
I am not mad

I’m not mad any longer
People eat tomatoes
People eat bread

I am a monster
I eat life

But only because I am losing mine
Into a horrible void
That for you is only an idea

I once felt better about things
I once felt better about things
When the blankness was just an idea
Like the way you still think of it

Still I don’t think love is an idea
I don’t think compassion is an idea
I don’t think babies are born out of loneliness
I don’t think the sea is cold

I only think it is cool
Cool cool sea
Blue-green mystery
Mysterious fish

If only I had been born
A fish
Instead of a monster

If only the water were my only home
I would swim so quietly
I would not say hello to you
I would no longer be sad

I would still be me though
And I would not let you catch me
For your dinner

And when you wanted to eat me for your dinner
I would disappear


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Dorothea Lasky is the author of AWE, Black Life, and the forthcoming Thunderbird, all from Wave Books. She is also the author of several chapbooks, including Poetry is Not a Project (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2010). She currently lives in NYC and can be found online here.

PHOTO CREDIT: Lawrence Schwartzwald

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Zachary Pace lives in Brooklyn, works at Akashic Books, curates the Projection reading series, co-edits Bridge collaboration journal, and teaches at Mercy College.

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  • Bob Vacin via Facebook December 23, 2011, 11:00 am

    gray and pink sometimes work….

  • Helicon January 17, 2012, 7:05 am

    “And when
    you wanted to eat me for your dinner”

    Oh I could
    eat you, starting here

    Between convex
    toes, salty arches

    Licked wetted
    by night’s attack

    Throat sipping,
    devil backed

     

    Never
    filled, nothing spilled

    Crumbling- flavoured-
    savoured

    Girl, in sweet,
    tongue tied spin

    Honey spied,
    silk-pink-fried

    Roasted, moaning,
    ghosted

     

    Upon my
    plate, parted, lingering

    Dripping,
    fingering, holding, reddened

    Claw bled,
    pulled apart firm-on-soft

    Biting words
    that come out

    Part formed,
    feasted letters

     

    Of a meal of
    you…..xxx

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