Love Letter by Kaitlyn Bancroft

humidifying my clothes straight correct and even like the 2 holes made by staples

on the elevator at work a drunk man leaned in to tell me about how we me + him deal with such shit, don’t we living in NY and all

playing the bop-it cat and vacuum game hot oil twinkling

autopsying the iron, the pin making a case for anxiety uncredited laugh resonance

mouthing quilted slicer u r that 2 me handing me over a silver toy a muffler labor bop-it

poetry by Cecilia Stelzer

120