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Abigail Swoboda


the lunar
 
Monday: a lighter
w two flames, flickering
against left shoulder, slit, pouring
long hair & Aura: pulsating white &
silver. The Divine absorbs through
the pores/this fabric has 
a memory.
Tuesday: the sidewalk 
is soft w Sycamore seeds, soccer 
practice, sun/setting. Warm wet. 
I have not been so much inside
my body: a winding staircase going
down, walls covered in carpet pink 
& orange, ash/
trays/o/ver/flo
wing.
Wednesday: See you later, Beatrice!
A woman with a shovel wearing
a jean skirt up to her knees
in sand: she rides three 
stops, then: fingers 
find the wire, pull: so 
many sand/fleas. A pencil
in the window/well. Have a good
Thursday: I think it’s hot when 
I use my cane. my shoulders 
in the crowd: mattress stained w 
yearning. The cake was just so 
delicate & I am sad that I will not be
every kind of person: Joyce & 
Jimbo & I always smush bugs 
w my bare/fingers.
Friday: flocks
of grackles, a pigeon turning in the air
in front of me: sudden sun/soaked
detail: bare/chest, bright/pink, sweating
8 of Spades: the Snake, en/
mity, calamities. it’s been
a december
Saturday: plum/flesh purple 
then red then white. We are all animals 
together some/times: fur, saliva, prayer,
pits. some/times it is not blood
that lies beneath
the skin. in my dreams: I 
devour
Sunday: burning up the ends 
of incense sticks on the electric 
stove. internal dithering, pneumatics. 
Kawasaki air/car: Wait. my hands
are always in my pockets. Wait
until leader clears 
the lunar.
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  • HOME
  • ISSUE 12
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP