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by Alex Lemon

You want evidence of the street
fight? A gutter-grate bruise & concrete scabs—
here are nails on the tongue,
a mosaic of glass shards on my lips.

I am midnight banging against housefire.
A naked woman shaking
with the sweat of need.

An ocean of burning diamonds
beneath my roadkill,my hitchhiker
belly fills sweet. I am neon blind & kiss
too black. Dangle stars—

let me sleep hoarse-throated in the desert
under a blanket sewn from spiders.
Let me be delicate & invisible.

Kick my ribs, tug my hair.
Scream You’re Gonna Miss Me
When I’m Gone. Sing implosion
to this world where nothing is healed.

Slap me, I’ll be any kind of sinner.


Alex Lemon’s most recent poems are forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Indiana Review, Pleiades, Post Road, Swink, Washington Square, and other journals. Among his awards are grants from the SASE/Jerome Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. He teaches creative writing at Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota. (4/2005)

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