wrapped in a turtleneck
voicebox cover
a phone screen that won’t break
my last one shattered
picture shards
that’s what I really am,
was, now I’m a suburban
dog mom
the bags I carry her shit
in are transparent
what am I doing looking all
in the middle of a warm
winter that doesn’t know itself?
you look lovely in a turtleneck
is not what I want to hear
from anyone who doesn’t know
where I’m from, what my living
room floor looked like
with glistening presents
purchased by strangers.
my throat is sealed up tight.
I try to belong here
underneath a seizure
of Christmas lights.


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