meconium > writing




Body English

You lean way left and paddle
your strong hands
and your body english sucks

the hanging lightbulbs and
airplane-toilet-fluid-blue cubed
chalk way left and the spirits

behind the bar in bottles
pitch. The cues in their neck
racks like students bow

with you and all the fork
tines within a mile.
Outside the front tires

of a parked bus glance
away from the curb
and the magnets

in the eighty eyes
of forty pigeons
skip. Light rain parts

like bristles pressed
against the flat roof
of your head and a dog’s

urine veers from it’s hydrant
and drowns a police
woman. Everyone around

feels something is wrong
in the middle of what they think of
as their pelvic floor.

Many are terrified, most
are working, some are
children. Five people

near me belch and acute
gerrymandering torques
the county. Something

prismatic happens.
On the sidewalk, a jellyfish,
a teacher points at a uvula

and says the word stomach.
Sonya cries. So does Saul.
You make their insides

hurt but the white mook
on the table still touches
all the wrong solids.

Body English
2017