TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

ten poems

Morag

she had a happiness that softened over everything when she spoke like gentle lichen on the sides of a deep well and when I first met her at 15 we kissed a little (I rarely had the opportunity and she was a slave to her whim) and then later one night drunk I fucked her uncomfortably on the door of her father’s car and came quick as an apple falling, like squeezing something of myself into something beyond myself, a sprout bursting the ground into the home of the fairies, cattle with eyes that shone or a wandering jew, nothing earthly, Morag was beyond reason, so enfurred with comfort that nothing human could touch her, she probably dissolved vitamin pills in water for houseplants and cried at every disney film, she probably named each stray cat she saw and had pink fur on the photoframes on her nightstand. it was awful. a goldfish. a satire in waves that couldn’t

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