In the Crux of Rotation

Bees with neon wings. Blues and greens and jarring pinks, pollinating with the colors of the discotheque. The lights that never go off in the grey house down the hill. The re-roofing contractor who steals all of the brown ducks from your parent’s pond. The reverberation of the column of air in the bassoon. The polka-dot pants that your neighbor has hung out to dry on her sheet metal fence.

“I didn’t remember how much I love scalpels”

“I made a point of telling her that I didn’t know if I could connect to anyone”

“My accent is ‘midwestern that’s been damaged by the stage'”

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