I sat there
while she went through her journal
picking out parts
that became more important
through poetry. “I jot down ideas”
was said like it was something
everyone does,
as if she presupposes a world that is
covered in her words like sacred lambs
that speak with special triptych notions.
She writes “Low”
like the first syllable of Lolita, though
it is the sound of her art,
as it makes itself colloquial. Drawn out,
it becomes a bellow.
By Janna Avner
