poem by Alexis Pope


Follow the shapes, she tells me. Follow
the shapes because that’s all we end with.
Someone will kill me, she tells me. The someone
& I die. Run the mare, she tells me. Trace the rust
of the bridge back to the beginning. Stamp
out the box shape of our adolescence,
she tells me. The bike chain slides into place.
Pull the boots up about knee high, she tells
me. Rock in your place on the high mount. Emit
a placid yellow swell from behind the mouth.
All of my eyelashes are gone, she tells me. Every
where I look is a little more same. Every street
named after a lake. Lick the stain off your teeth,
she tells me. We stay in place is what they
are telling me, she tells me. Bring snacks,
we’ll be here for hours.



Alexis Pope