𝙾 𝙲 𝙲 𝚄 𝙻 𝚄 𝙼

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Sacred Festival Drama 1

Every day I
greet my ex’s shrink
shocked to find me in human form

My own therapist
subsists on crumbs – I’ve let
him down so

The monster who clogs through
the neighbourhood
has turned from grey to blue

If only I could bump into 
a bar or symbol fresh enough
to feed any of them

To pull open the secret door
and let out a devil fruit
that’s switched sides

A ripe thing at least 
to come through or go off
as needed:

Stink bomb, fame salve,
gush logic triumph font, or
every rind-worthy thought

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necessary joy check

already bitten the map host 
and chewed the root cure
she’s pressed out from lost hoist 
in failure to thrive lure 
all eau d’eviction notice and levis cut-off tears
behind chest plate heart wait/ and weighted 
the girl image called wordy gerty gets her due
industrial, she directed everything sturdy, on cue
literally steering the mother of all things around for donkey’s years

1:short kick for right  
2:palm over palm for hard left
3:this mother never missed as inside girl direct fist toward
4:unlucky completion valve and a lot of grass-eating wholeness
(Grass-fed would sound better years later and meat plant copy edits bankrolled her descendants for time at least)
5. decades

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Estelle Anderson is a writer and teacher from Toronto,Canada.
twitter: @estellanderson