Anger Management

Anger Management Christine DeSimone If it feels good, don’t say it. Now what am I supposed to do? There’s not enough space on this form. Hell is other people, so said Sartre— this clot of humans, daybound and tethered, two-faced, watching. I don’t need to check under the bed for sounds. I’m afraid of nothing but the sheets I pull back. I eat the moon through my window. I carry a wicker basket of barbed wire. I get everything I want, just at the wrong time: Sniper, lightning, candlepin, lynchpin, safety pin. And what if I like the pain? Or what if I’m over it? Maybe I’m used to the way the ground swallows me each time I walk to the bus. There are days when I’ll jiggle the dagger’s hilt. I prefer the jab-jab-jab that reminds me I’m still alive. Some say there’s meaning in where an archer’s arrow strikes. Where your thoughts are, that’s where you land. A word can mock you in a turtleneck. I am trying: I pull my hair back to hear things correctly. I pin lips quiet when someone closes the door. I know how to zing clean with a cartoon smile. I bite http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 the University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
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Abstract

Christine DeSimone If it feels good, don’t say it. Now what am I supposed to do? There’s not enough space on this form. Hell is other people, so said Sartre— this clot of humans, daybound and tethered, two-faced, watching. I don’t need to check under the bed for sounds. I’m afraid of nothing but the sheets I pull back. I eat the moon through my window. I carry a wicker basket of barbed wire. I get everything I want, just at the wrong time: Sniper, lightning, candlepin, lynchpin, safety pin. And what if I like the pain? Or what if I’m over it? Maybe I’m used to the way the ground swallows me each time I walk to the bus. There are days when I’ll jiggle the dagger’s hilt. I prefer the jab-jab-jab that reminds me I’m still alive. Some say there’s meaning in where an archer’s arrow strikes. Where your thoughts are, that’s where you land. A word can mock you in a turtleneck. I am trying: I pull my hair back to hear things correctly. I pin lips quiet when someone closes the door. I know how to zing clean with a cartoon smile. I bite

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Aug 9, 2017

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