by Mark Bibbins, Editor
Net, Web
I land fully formed like a cherub.
Nothing pleases me. You
least of all, with your fingers
poking their grime
on dreams. Behind thick drapes
my code is plain and can’t
account for your dismal nerves,
twitchy joys and wounds. This
is what you wanted.
Guarantee of unplumbable lake.
Forget you are greatly eased
or disturbed by smells, where and how
your nerves directly touch the air. Here,
you will always have everyone
wherever you go.
Molly Brodak is the author of A Little Middle of the Night (University of Iowa Press, 2010) and three chapbooks of poetry. She lives in Atlanta and teaches at Emory University.
You will find more poems here. You may contact the editor at poems@theawl.com.
