ERIN WILSON
Let us Measure
I made white bread
put the alarm clock in the fridge
wore a gold necklace
we wrestled behind the bushes, in a tent, on the couch
across the street
a man lit a pipe in the evening, behind the curtain
the optimism I wasn’t born with
her black polyester dress,
the pink rose between her breasts
matched her lipstick
her vowels lost, or the beginning of her words
the half-stutter of a second language
throw up your hands and open your mouth wide
pull on my tongue, put your fingers between my teeth, make a sound