to Ms. Smith
I got my Vitamin D this morning from that lovable vacuum cleaner in the sky. It was so pretty my prayer beads sang. I met Jesus the Feminist and staffed UNICEF all in an instant. The moment was medical engineering. It was the anaphora I feed myself in the dark. It was an arrowhead carved from the granite in my belly. It stunk and spat and danced and sparkled. And then it rotted in my hand. But that’s how I knew it was real. By noon it was dust. So I kept walking. Smiles ranging a quarter-mile.
Gabe Kahan is a poet, freelance writer, undercover zine creator, and the founding editor of the literature and arts journal, Taxicab Magazine. He lives and writes in both DC and New York, where he mixes up the words “metro” and “subway” on a regular basis. @GabeKahan