301 Moved Permanently

301 Moved Permanently


nginx

Hit

Today there is nothing
on the radio in my head
but the hotel radio is playing
Drops of Jupiter as my nausea
waits by the tracks for the rushing-by
to stop. Being in a train or a top forty
tune is like being caught in a lion’s
mouth that is still moving very fast.
I know I can’t really put on a body
other than my own. And I know
I can’t wear you forever, sick blanket,
or you, animal coat.
Children and doctors
are precise with their removals
of the heart and other
unmentionables. I am
after all, alive, with a hint
occasionally of their fluttering
knives. When sense stops coming
through and the station becomes
overrun with static, I get a
rubbed-the-wrong-way
anxiety-ticked, backlit feeling
that is high and whipping
like the wind reading Monday’s paper.
Nothing much in it if it comes at all—
I hope something is about to
pick me up in its mouth and run.

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