Have you ever met a girl who’s half
. as clever? Never! And it’s true,
everything in my
house folds up: the bed creases
along lines of sheets—even
my elbows, my knees, collapse
for easy storage—you
know Mother was
a crazy quilt, but this girl’s
better—my head is filled
with seating charts
and wood biscuits, a few grains
of poesy all mixed
in the matter—I polish
my eyes each morning, I
curl felt tongue around names
of old fairy kings—yes, bones
nothing but batting—pull
a hangnail, lose the hand—
but, listen!
–Morgan Adams,
In Nonestica (2013)
Accents Publishing
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