rosiewang muckraker illustration 1

Illustrated by: Rosie Wang

Primary, a dampness, a border

A trail, the same shoes, tomorrow

Morning it will already be uncovered

And I, beyond, will hear only the hush

Of my skirts

In the bath this morning,

The door locked and the key on the floor,

I stared at my skin. I want to carry

The wall with me, as light as the water that ran

Down to the new hairs of my sex

But the wall is strong

It listens to my hands

And when a shadow passes above, prostrate

I think to measure it

I hope to one day forget where this wall is

And lose this old necklace that rests on my chest

Illustrated by: Rosie Wang

Illustrated by: Rosie Wang

A rainbow crackles and laughs

A cold coin picked up and stuck

In my pocket to warm up, stricken–

The words of a hollow Sunday

The stalled hours and the bright sun

My baby brother and I step onto our private

Continent, the words of a private Sunday

A voice and then a voice.

Pleasure in not seeing.

All the chairs in the house are gone

And at night we turn toward the walls

Away from the mute TV

Away from the patch of lawn where I stepped

Tomorrow we start our philosophy

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