Writings by jessica salans, organizer & storyteller based in Los Angeles. Featuring 365 sonnet project.
The argument just needed to be sussed.
It needn’t been an argument if fear
he’d had, he could have recognized as much.
But here he stood, in argument, the dear.
At least if there are hummingbirds, I’ll stay.
Their nectar beaks and pumping thinned wing beat —
What’s that? They’ve fallen ill? The heat of day?
We are the three percent or more, offshore.
The cut up rounds of meat in plastic bags.
Our plastic cards determine every door.