by Tracey Knapp

Nobody here, because this is a pandemic poem.

I didn’t want to write one. I didn’t want to love

someone once, which actually worked

for a while. You never really know what

you’re good at.  Brushing my teeth three times

a day is not my forte. Who cares?

Really, are you sitting at home

worried that I might lose a tooth? Probably      

not. You’re probably glad I wore a mask

to Target today while buying everything bagels

and cat litter. My days are so boring.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this poem bored you.

I’m just going to keep writing though, hoping

my inner elk fleets to the tree behind some

barn in a much different poem.       

In it, I would describe my lover licking

the space between my breasts—wouldn’t that

be hot? But I’d need a lover then, and some

reason to dump him at the end of this poem,

I think I just did. We’re over. So sorry.

Tracey Knapp is a poet living in Berkeley, CA. Knapp’s first full-length collection of poems, Mouth, was published by 42 Miles Press. Her work has appeared in Best New Poets, Poetry Daily, RattleFive Points, San Diego Poetry Annual and elsewhere. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and has work forthcoming in the anthology Sh!t Men Say to Me: A Poetry Anthology in Response to Toxic Masculinity. Sally Lelong is a visual storyteller working in a variety of media that lend themselves to use in a conceptual framework. She lives and works in New York, and routinely exhibits her work in a variety of settings from print to thematic installations to street art.

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