By Sierra Jameson bleeding bleeding into black into tumble blood, me sweat and skin fart in rubber shoes, it’s cooler in the sun—glass still in the cracks (the concrete) frowns missing handsoap to pass spincycle, in the closet bathroom please unlock please 25¢ hour dry who cries in there? on the dirty floor? this sweater fits basket with blood i tube up blue and grey sock—i have the moth- rage—why?—hang bra, fold magenta scrubs— still smell like pepper beard, no, cayenne, better than this—vinegar orange doesn’t wipe away the stain why can’t i get rid of it? watch the oil step over the oil careful—the oil— it’s one of too many things i kept from him did shrink? green knit pulls from the bottom, a sleeve longer, like a trench, like inadequacy in-grease, how often do the lint traps get cleaned? the blood is everywhere.
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Main Squeeze Literary Journal 