February 17, 2017

Liv Lansdale

ON DOMESTIC ECOSYSTEMS

This jar
of yours has
people inside.

I feed them
jam. I lick
the knife.

Let’s fold
a map
of the sea

into thirds
and bury it
out back.

Nights
like these
the moon

is a round
fact like
a seed or

a lid or
the mark
on your

skin my
mouth will
leave behind.

from Rattle #54, Winter 2016

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Liv Lansdale: “Last year I met a poet at AWP, and months later ran into her again under very different circumstances. I’d introduced myself solely as an editor; when she found out I wrote as well, she asked me to write her a poem. Something about anticipating a specific reader—particularly a semi-stranger—gave rise to this one. I doubt I could replicate the circumstances. If I do, I’ll be the woman asking a stranger to write her a poem.” (website)