Trish Salah
POEMS
 

red  bra [] heroics
            [Boolean]


if it is absent, why is it [] routine?
                                [this] is a thesis:
if i am ill                             (mad at sex)
if in all i give            (the lie to numbers)
      this [] offers
nothing [“i can’t say,”] just walk in on

which ifis that all [ ] there is?—as if your labyris yields
                  before i, [if, that sex] a sly buoy vulgarly flouting the pacific
example, as in, as if, a knowable ratio:
                                      “x” number of unregarded co[]pse to “x”  number cops[]
at the pigs’ trough, woman after woman voided as  who[r]                                 [e],  
who died where? who, not reading this,
can’t argue if, with Plato, you decry such “figural []use”  
                                                          what can [ab]solve  a “too loose economy”  
“the prostitution” of representation?
like a downwardly mobile Venus’ cum borne off Hanlon’s Point
to wash over  all there is?

[]
[to spot a declension’s meiosis, or orbit the same
is is is is ain’t is is is is is
turn, barbie, turn
as perversion derives, against these rocks,
this representation of prostitution, my caption reads:
disparate to name, variably ekphrastic,
an image to seme description
as meme is handsome and
fiery like the moth words (alter love, pulse gold, troubadour)
our will to have to give here up,
you’re her mirroring mired sore
her yields of Minoan twine halters—
go clean, quell.]



   
   
   

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