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64 minutes

mary kasimor

sky smoothes around this amniotic
fluid
no bodies moving        in the orange forest
                lead us not into temptation
author of time:
is the bomb pink?
basement enters transubstantiation
             oh christ             oh
in the circles      of cellular girth
efficient men redraw
horses in england        in mexico
quantum leaps in coffees
dark pools            tasting red deer
grown in masks

place hands up
the sunset is bruised Taurus
shiny trees settle the dust        drowning in the rain
the girl resembled a tragedy         (but) nothing happened
waiting for happiness
                            the book holds the rain
a guarantee of a ransom        whatever happens
didn’t call back        I will trick you
and sell the poems
two for one
                   I only own their punctuation
and swallow the poet’s tears
she has used 64 minutes of her life
she called at 1:00 am    identifying herself