i am well aware that the name belongs to a pig

LITERARY MAGAZINE




I swallowed his flames
like flames swallow moths

God! I want so much of everything,
all of the time

I never found your brown corduroy

It’s six in the morning and I’m punch-drunk on smell. A sunbird is

my teeth hurt
rattling around

The pull of the brush,
knots and static

Days were just getting humid when the prairie dogs were spotted in the cemetery