by Ramesh Dohan
The front door wide open
to a sky of windblown herons, pewter
wings bent back
the acre of grass is a sleeping
swarm of locusts
Nina Simone sings
In the next room without a body
I am against the wall, dream headed.
I turned the family portrait facedown
When he was on me
What he calls me is not my name
And I love it
Damask chair beside the lion claw tub
Where I pretended to drown
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