August 3, 2018





                                                         Straddle the piano.    

                                                                 Spend days in malls  


     to grow accustomed to people.       Fingers move 

of their own accord.   When your skin cracks, perfect        

        the lighting of candles.       Hypnotize 

   snakes.  They lack 

an outer ear to hear your music.    

          I need the disinterested man’s eyes on me        to know if there is progress.  


          For study.   For preservation  

of a beloved pet.  From the moment she learns  

          to steeple, she’s intervals of flesh.        A woman reading in public  

                         does not wish to be questioned.   



                          When that word is delivered 

              into leather,     you don’t get to look at me.  


                                                                                         Hide fox and all after.  


She would be uncomfortable sitting on your lap, unless 

   you are adequately abstract. 


Clay shaped some soft parts, making the specimen heavy. 


                                            Prescribe lullabies.  A whip made of a beast.  

                             Drugs rehearse the worst parts of yourself.    


            Kittens mounted on wire bodies 

play a game of croquet. Welcome  

      to the collection.     Lipstick  


                tarts microphones.      Men of high status  

sell medicines as souvenirs.   



                                                                               As with all simple beasts,  

     the cast of your body     is called its form.              

                        Too frightened of the other patients  

         to shower,      you hurt me   

with your faith in symmetry.             Experts tattoo themselves with cobra ink.   

     We can’t all be assembled.   







Anna Morrison's poetry has appeared in journals such as BOMB, Interim, Shampoo, and Adrienne: A Poetry Journal of Queer Women. Her poems won the LUMINA and Prism Review poetry prizes and have been finalists for prizes from Omnidawn, The Iowa Review, and Ahsahta Press. Passionate about small-press publishing, she’s served as an editor for Kelsey Street Press and currently works with Omnidawn. An MFA candidate at Saint Mary’s College of CA, she lives with her partner in the Santa Cruz Mountains.


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Puerto del Sol

Weirding it up since 1960.

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