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MS. CONCEPTION
She came into my yard like a lost dog,
sniffing about the house,
peeing in all the corners.
She came into my yard
like scattered newspapers,
section one, page one,
to be continued.
She is all canary, she clears mines,
she is mustard on a new pair of pants.
I call her Lucille,
loose as a wheel,
one act play, silk sheets
but no cigarette.
She came at me with that ballsy bronze voice,
said there’s a song in this mess
do you hear it?
Where does she get off talking to me
like that,
breaking my back like a snap pea?
It’s late and I’m tired,
all that damn carrying on,
the next door screaming baby, the howling
at the fence.
Get out of my yard, go home,
take my vacant womb like a chew toy,
a ruby on your finger,
a pink flamingo,
take it and go,
just stop scratching at my door,
stop barking in my night.
Sample Poem from Sweet Curdle, Marsh River Editions, 2006
Reprinted from Prairie Schooner by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright 2002 University of Nebraska Press.
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