Dearman McKay


The meniscus is the thing, not the appearance of the meniscus.
She calls it superficial but if I were to fold her
I’d fold her like water folds three big boots and a blackened dam.

Her legs are barbarian, her folds a trick.
The verb does not conjugate — it remains a tongue.

I am         a mother tongue
I is            a social tongue
I are          a tongue

calcium fold and rich and the word.

He straightens the fold and my bent words grow.
I am an uncertain fold. But a tongue. And a tongue.

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