on matters of resistance, and stepmothers

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focus on the semiconscious,
the fizzy static
stutters to a slow tempo,
the beat's thick, matches up
to the bmm bmm badubmm
of my fidgety heartbeat.
they make me into a song,
willing or not.
your faces dissolve out 'til they're
fat pixels, thrift store box scraps
gluesticked together.
I like you there,
on the horizon smudged
desaturated, I
can smile at you there, prettily,
nod politely.
formalities, quite efficient,
the face of
quiet
resistance.





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