From THE BLACK EYE by Brian Foley...

DELICACY Tonight I dine on a mood as old as the world. Content to sap my lungs With a slaw of black banana peels. When night is bored she grows mean. Buried in leaves. A belly full of stones. Walk past me. I am a cat gagging on a blade of grass. TELEGRAM Your face a hanging naked electric bulb Mine etched in character lines filled with dirt We alike as two telephones speaking to one another Unremarkable as noses blowing brains into a tissue

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