Shanna Compton An Obsession with Dirt, a Desire for Order

Here we travel among
all the warmer demolitions.
We chase a moderate harmony
into a third verse of little-known lyrics.

Ghastly, aren't we?
But concomitantly pretty,
happy, reorganized into dweeby floor plans
furnished with shared shelves.

Induce me to trade my latest wig.
Serve me any lame dish—I'll eat it.
Tell me the prairie is studded with icebergs.
No need to ask: I see them too.

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