Julia Wills: Poem
AFTER- LIFE
passing on through nonmelodic characters (could at least be a means of continued
consciousness?)
well, there's no purgatory or Beatrice between prayers and cocaine.
x-rays of my
wrists hang to the wall like words pinched through a child's dare. . .
with my rolled bill it did
come - a three pronged glitch conducted orange flares
of "she just might
die"
split one nerve,
cannot kiss a woman or man after the instant you became
inscribed in a photo. The "stabbing" of my
nameless man - or should I tactfully share the
swollen cock, rubbing alcohol ejaculation, and a steal wool
foreskin to burglarize canal
walls - making them young, younger at 19 "shhh CHILD BREATHE"
hands
blocking air until adequate toll is paid, really
that makes romance so easy: (easily flashback burnt Sunday
barbecue candy no air, and
forgiving eyes while inhaling shit)
his whorish lotion fixation could now be
erotic - but, all sensation withdrawn from my
belly on one day.
He was the first on the assembly
line,
driving out quite a
product:
an idiot vision of a girl hallucinating herself then,
eventually
this very page
the umbilical cord
there all along (mother you wouldn't have known) accidentally looped
on a forming neck . . .
this I have
even heard you wishing. . .
Julia Wills is a recent college graduate. This is her first appearance in Gnome.
