VALERIE HSIUNG
One gun per family. And one painting. One gun and one painting.
One stitch for you, one one stitch and no cheating. Daguerrotypes of stretching, stretch marks. More than any divine cut. I have another magnanimity: singing— the accident of trembling. One blanket per family. One blanket and one street cleaning each mid-morning. Go under, be brave, under the bed. Slip the coins into the folder of skin, baby hurry.
POETRY | 95