Untitled
the
body
is
a party
we
wish
would
never end
in
war & peace
there
is a moment
in
which
a
bunch of
soldiers
in a lake
are
bathing
young
& strong
&
beautiful
their
naked
bodies
bring
up death
a
body always does
&
is
like
a book in that way
finite,
contained
but
within
each
to its own
infinities
whoever
touches
another
body
touches
life & death both
whoever
touches
my
body touches
his
or her own
I
hate war
&
peace ‘I like
beating
people up’
we
are making
love
or war
every
time we touch
even
this
little
finger counts
Untitled
after
we broke up
we
went on tour
in
philly I failed
to
slap you
bruising
only
my own arm
all
because
the
night before
in
nyc
you
crawled into an air
mattress
with me
which
remained
inflated
through
the night
to
my surprise
that
by dawn
it
still hadn’t gone flat
on
the floor the air
all
the more
unreasonably
swollen
your
morning genitals
kept
trying
to
wake up mine
impenetrably
I
got up & put on
a
see-thru shirt
in
an earnest effort
to
ignore you
as
I had since charlotte
at
the econolodge
where
we shared a room
&
separately in it
tried
to sleep
the
bed was hard
&
so was your cock
in
a dream
I
twisted off
your
new
girlfriend’s
head
look,
it’s only
plastic
I said
&
held up the head
proudly
as proof
to
you who had
by
the time
we
reached baltimore
turned
irreversibly
into
plastic too
Laura Solomon was born in 1976 in Birmingham, Alabama. Her books include Bivouac (Slope Editions, 2002), Blue and Red Things (UDP, 2007), and The Hermit (UDP, 2011). Other publications include a chapbook, Letters by which Sisters Will Know Brothers (Katalanché Press 2005) and Haiku des Pierres / Haiku of Stones by Jacques Poullaoueq, a translation from the French with Sika Fakambi (Editions Apogée, 2006). Her poetry was recently included in the anthology Poets on Painters (Witchita State Press 2007), has appeared in magazines across North America and Europe and has been translated into ten languages. Most recently she has lived in Paris, Philadelphia, and Verona, Italy.
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