Kelly Connor



I can re
route and be
new. For
whom the toll
roads closed
due to snow,
lone gunman,
freak gust
and weird, steep

Huge, ruinous
ganglia: This
is the new
cue to leave
the room. I do
you from behind,
so wet you’re

translucent. So
flesh is a veil
that we’re
soaking through
to see anew

this best of possible
views. A peephole
in the force field
we need to breach
for me to reach you.



All trod on hallowed sod.
Come as a gunman, come
as a guard unarmed.
In the balm of surveillance,
in the calm of a mounted camera,
in cheap black pantyhose
the redacted crotch,
the opaque patch. In time
the book broke its binding.
I’m biting mine. I’m minced.
I’m mice or less. The sky
today looks nice in that dress.

The creep show in the cheap
seats leaked out, the thrill
spilled and dried. A dull buzz.
Oh, nothing. Just the vespid wasp
that nests in my eye. It stings
to watch the world go by.
Bye-bye, baby. That’s my theme song,
the thing I sing to the sick swan
that swims in my Clorox moat. It pets
me back to my best self, the one
that can sleep at night. Somehow
I go numb, sleet briefly, than shut off.
Tell me again how I look tonight.
No, say it the same way as before,
when you said “This isn’t right.”



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