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Leora Fridman & Josh Finn

Still, it's worth / getting hungry for / the type of grinding / which makes my / skin hot but me / cool inside.


Trundle

Ask for a piece of plastic
I'll give you a hot-
dog-shaped bun.
What you can
do with that is
fill it with me &
my tunneling shape.
I'll be powdered, then
I'll go hunting for
more granularity.
When I'm granular
I worry about hot
water & a hungry
face. Still, it's worth
getting hungry for
the type of grinding
which makes my
skin hot but me
cool inside. Which
hollows the bread.
Which is more
than you can say
about my anger.
I know this baker
who plays fast &
loose with his body.
Any thoughts I had
before get trundled
into a pie of his.
Like a real trundle
bed, just slid right.
I'll admit I'm
jealous of how
much he can
fit. How many
of my old memories
get kneaded?
This is me
in sesame seeds.
This is me not
knowing where's
the space. Oh, ok
I found it. Ha!
I found a spot for
you.

Your Hair Stuck in the Map

You should see the Indian ocean floor, babe.
It's unlike anything I've dreamed this year.
Next year, I'll have a new set of scuba flippers,
you can touch them if you want. I'm good at measuring
my rubber parts, but my scales get sensitive, so take care
when you rub against me like that. You do that
with surfaces. Angle up against them nonchalant,
like that map of South America, crumpled up
against my northern bits, squishing my Guatemala
behind your ears. I'm watching you, lady, and
your gorilla hands look like they're eating ankles.
I think you just need something to do with those
octopus elbows, those elegant soft bones.
Next year I'm going to take you to the ocean
where we'll belong.


Leora Fridman and Josh Finn both live in Western Massachusetts and both drive similarly-colored cars, though they have differently-colored hair.