by Ange Mlinko
There’s nothing with which to begin but your own nothing.
Repertoire of nonsense sunshine
after black bathroom stalls at the Rat
where my right hand’s stamped
& the intricate patterns of bootsoles glow
in silver graffiti sfumato.
I fall behind on a good time
I’ve stolen from my looks for poetry.
I’m sick of my costumes
delicate & posthumous
& furthermore I’m sick of this grail that doesn’t exist & is therefore
Through the dark hoping for light
& through the light waiting for night.
Ange Mlinko lives in Somerville, MA, where she edits the poetry ’zine Compound Eye. Her work has appeared in lift, Talisman, and Black Bread. (1995)