“for richard”

I had a dream that we were burying the lion in the backyard again 
and still the hole was too small and the earth too rocky. You jumped 
on the shovel, one sneaker firmly planted on each of the spade’s 
hips, pushing down and down. I was worried that the shock of it 
might split you open. And then we were burying the hole, and we
 were burying ourselves inside of it, and we were burying the 
backyard and the house it was attached to. The lion got loose, 
nobody was watching it. We were busy fighting, and by fighting I 
mean I was crying and refilling the bird feeder by myself again. And 
you got on the motorcycle anyway. I’m yelling at you because you 
won’t be careful with yourself and you’re the only thing that seems 
to stick for me. You say that’s not anybody’s fault. Things just
 happen like that. Okay. Okay. Come in, leave your rings in the 
doorway. Uncross the wiring where I’ve mixed up fear and desire. 
I’m not scared anymore, not of you. 
I’m not deserving of all that love, you said. It feels wasted on me. 
And I have to ask you not to say things like that. When you speak 
poorly of yourself, you speak poorly of me, I say. What ever you are,
I am, and I love every stupid inch of you. I don’t know any 
different. I can’t imagine how I’d stop.
Josette Moore

Josette is a resident of Berkeley, CA and a purveyor of the joy of sundried tomatoes. Technically she studies English, Creative Writing and Gender Studies, but in reality most of their time on campus is spent at Cal’s radio station. You can listen to Josette on air at KALX 90.7fm, or take a peek at the station’s zines she oversees. She’s aspiring to work in publishing, to spend as much time as humanly possible touching and thinking about books.

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“GLASS EELS”

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WHAT THE BASEBALL SAW