• Dillon Cranston

the earth, the rats, and the vines

It is 1999. A strange woman

gives birth on her feet like a

wild animal.

From then on I grow

increasingly languid: it is

not the same river, etc, etc,

I talk crap & sleep like a

stone. I eat stones & let bed

bugs bite. I swallow dimes.

One day I’ll eat dad. Some

creation myth, God pulling

our tenement out of the sea.

It is 2002, to be read the

same forward as backward.

Mom reads her mysteries.

I am round like a stone

and burn easily when left

in the sun. The montsera

grows holes in much the

same way. I am two feet tall

and eat steak for dinner.

It is 2002. I am still

searching for another

way of saying it.

I am soft like a teddy bear.

I have done nothing wrong.

I choke on steak. I choke

on dry steak.

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