“and even you forgot those brilliant flashes seen from afar” -Ruth Stone

Novateur (1)

Play
Pause

I think you threatened
your coworker at FedEx
maybe that was it


but I still have your emails
I reread them sometimes
my heart bleating out

I still don’t understand
why you sent me death threats
fake acid wrapped
in soviet propaganda papers

I pictured you chasing me
around with a butter knife
sharpened to a green tip
driving your grandma-colored car
a testament to November

locking my car doors
outside of the pizza shop
after the oven’s conveyor belt
came to a stop
and I triple checked the doors

the parking lot
always empty

Novateur (2)

but I still have your emails
always empty
your coworker at FedEx

I think you threatened
outside of the pizza shop
and I triple checked the doors

I pictured you chasing me
around with a butter knife
after the oven’s conveyor belt

I still don’t understand
why you sent me death threats
sharpened to a green tip

the parking lot
came to a stop
a testament to November

I reread them sometimes
fake acid wrapped
in soviet propaganda papers
driving your grandma-colored car

my heart bleating out
locking my car doors
maybe that was it

Novateur (3)

locking my car doors
your coworker at FedEx
in soviet propaganda papers

I still don’t understand
driving your grandma-colored car
around with a butter knife

the parking lot
I reread them sometimes
and I triple checked the doors

a testament to November
I pictured you chasing me
I think you threatened

but I still have your emails
fake acid wrapped
outside of the pizza shop

came to a stop
sharpened to a green tip
always empty
maybe that was it

why you sent me death threats
my heart bleating out
after the oven’s conveyor belt

Novateur (4)

in soviet my car doors
your at coworker FedEx
propaganda locking papers

around understand
driving grandma-colored your car
I still with don’t a butter knife

the doors lot
I them reread sometimes
the parking I and triple checked

threatened to November
I chasing you pictured me
I think a you testament

the pizza shop your emails
fake wrapped acid
outside of I but still have

empty a stop
sharpened green a to tip
always to came
maybe was that it

conveyor belt death threats
my bleating heart out
after the why oven’s you sent me

Novateur (5)

triple wrapped a you too
I heart coworker soviet
FedEx locking green

doors still
papers checked propaganda eye
November them emails the green it I

driving to triple
to a sharpened after
green the eye with lot I

car car testament
driving shop oven’s the parking
your scent the at outside

car November came tip belt
death testament wrapped
it around a with round the

you parking tip
he the two sent out
why rapped death
checked conveyor heart worker

why me knife you
out bleating death soviet
grandma-colored car maybe papers the after eye

Appears in this issue
Dominic Dulin is a poet and musician out of Cleveland, Ohio. He has had poetry published by Modern Haiku Magazine, Surreal Poetics, Frogpond Journal, and Bones Haiku Journal.

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