by Thais Benoit
my sorta friends eat tiny
multicolored pills and keep them in
plastic containers with
too many lids
this is new york city
where arguing works
i supply a jumbled list of uncategorized answers
i sit with them
cross-legged, on the floor and
sort them into piles,
crushed seashells in my pockets
and orange marigolds in my hair
i beckon a tickle
deep in her throat
i am arachne,
she is afraid of animals
i am part of a generation of people who pay their bills
with borrowed money
bending time
i dig deep enough
america is dying, and
georgia o’keeffe is boring.
i am singing with grain stuck
between my front teeth,
you’re still parading
the importance of
your skin and whom
you miss at the moment