Your mouth is a cotillion
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Your mouth is a cotillion

all things considered, there is very little disturbancewhen the aliens make their way down to earth.(we don’t learn until much later that all of the flamingoes

in the northern hemisphere spontaneouslydied.) yes, i remember that day like it wasa tomorrow i had been clutching for a very long time.

already the afternoon was a rusty pennyon my tongue. cruel & presidential.take me, i tell one, not even shuddering. i love

you your pickled hands, your bible-papereyelids. & besides it would not be inaccurate to describe everyonei know as old boy. even the young ones. the women,

too. that’s the kind of situation we’re dealing with.i’m sorry, he says, i am. but that’s not really whyi’m here. his fingers are poprocks on my cheek.

he kneels to light fire to this burning world [End Page 105]

Claire Schwartz

Claire Schwartz is a PhD Candidate in African American Studies and American Studies at Yale University. Her poetry has appeared in a number of publications including Front Porch Review, Stirring, and Tuesday; An Art Project.

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