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  • Writer's pictureLammergeier Staff

In this space of twilight and rituals | David Greenspan

after Miyo Vestrini

We take the ordinary

out for a walk. Paint ourselves

stupid with pistachio shell,

goose shit, poppy seed,

other delights from a childhood

shoeless in fields

in Michigan’s crumbling palm.

We grow skinny to our feet

which balloon out. We have studied

brooms, learned their secrets,

their peculiar language.

I hold leaves in my mouth

in place of a mouth. Tens of hummingbirds

lift my hair in clumps.

Living is a propaganda

of the body. Dying is nothing

difficult, says the poet

who wished all her life to die.

Militant poet of death, she takes

her leftovers, dry rubbed lamb,

sugar fat carrots in foil

folded to a swan. In the night’s souring,

she doesn’t bother stove or oven,

goes straight for the swan’s neck.

We hold the ordinary between

our teeth, tugging at its arterial

until the unamenable inside

spills and we’re left

alone in a milk cold morning.

David Greenspan is the author of One Person Holds So Much Silence (Driftwood Press). He’s a PhD candidate in Creative Writing at the University of Southern Mississippi and earned an MFA from UMass Amherst. His poems have recently appeared in places like Bellevue Literary Review, Crab Creek Review, Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Prelude, and others.

Instagram: @david.greenspan



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