Marina 2

Of course I want to say something about myself

something about the spell

of my given pseudonym

how it falls down my back like hair 

how I note each dream like a notch on a belt

I know I will lose

the aw-shucks attitude

I’m said to have

a tradition, a blueprint,

a saddle

something with stirrups for my Pumas

like waking up from a dress rehearsal
to find that you really do work
domestically

the blue rinse of a calendar
the blocked artery of pencilled in

the compliment tree
I can't read memoirs
too jealous