• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 06
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come as you are

carry the croquette without the hands for
it, everyday dinner
the cat eats stinky two day old fish and
full from the whiff of a half-open vessel, white chicken skin that glistens beneath
the washcloth and
breaks out a wrinkle, the distinct burner
smell before it conks out soon, a
breaks upon the tranquil, the
clutches of adequate domesticity, enough-
enough as we would think last before
sleep swallowed the dark, but for
the knock
crashing down to
I and cat looking at each other across
the ceiling, the floor, the
broken expanse of
in-between engulfing our silent
everyday dinner
stinky fish, skin blown out in edible fashion,
the timely burning out of a burner,
cat and
and we think, we remember, we
lived long, so long