Amanda Marchand



this tastiness cannot be carried

I’m not holding my breath for him, she said,
first I’ll buy a vibrator
and a fish,

now I’m really lying, I’m telling everyone I’m 27, it makes them comfortable. learning things but not what I’d fantasized about. death, is that normal. I want to make things with plastic flowers, real are cheaper. how would you ask the question

I long

with the bottle of champagne in her arms she couldn’t stop crying.

have a baby then you’ll feel better. or a small alphabet. or fight a war, then you’ll feel better. Patrick’s HIV positive. or listen to the moans of buses, windows
no perfume

the girl with the red bicycle

something hard or billy goat style, maybe with some brass or whipped green, or the way honey runs, or the way dark hunts, or hips run behind, or the way you can’t bruise a river. or a stone.

hard fucked, long hard fucked

of creating
this tastiness
be carried
even by
both hands

must be magic. he’s in love with

this tastiness cannot be carried even by both hands
©Glass Eye Press, San Francisco, 2001