Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2018  Vol. 17 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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A Love Letter to My Panic

You’re as pretty as a shark. I never thanked you for the
supermarket flowers, those September windows opening

and shutting like a call to prayer. I don’t get off
on pain anymore. I understand now why the one coast

ripped into two; sometimes what’s left of a good heart
is the desire to stop beating. You walk from the East River

to tell me but baba used to sing more why must Miriam
sound like a woman are you sure this air isn’t expired is

that lump a tumor is that husband a lie goddamnit wake up
and love me. You’re the one that showed me the sad lights

of taxicabs, the sigh in that Jenny Lewis song. I made you up,
all heels and mascara. I told you not to listen when I said no.