The People Can Have a Little Trauma Bond, as a Treat

I’m people. One day, I’ll be a meme or put a QR code to my Cashapp on communion wafers. You scan, pay, then let it dissolve— through you, with you, in you, etc. Cut your teeth at a 45 degree angle this valerian root smells like feet we smell like feet we’re healing, pulling coconut oil from our toes, swishing it in our mouths bleeding…

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Melancholy

Please be advised that this poem includes descriptions of self-harm. —The Editors —A golden shovel poem on a line by Kaveh Akbar Oncemy mother played the violin until Ibegged her to stop. Melancholy cutlike catgut through my wrists and I bled in the openlike a butchered rabbit. I looked down, saw myfingertips had fallen off, my thighcrusted with their bits like panko ona fine Chilean…

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