Jake Starr

The eyelash dipping into me,

Blur the corona on my left.

Knicked quick when empty.

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Chinese restaurant’s marble print tables all blurry. Low resolution.

Sits soft against her drawn on brows.

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Real gentle now with your fork full.

Don’t wanna grease your cheeks in front of ma and pa.

Now gaunt, not like back when they fed you.

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We’re all parked in the empty lot next door. Salt and peppered soil.

Crack through the dry like the skin on a duck.

\

We are them,

14 bodied.

Rock up, drink in hand.

Only offered knife and fork.

Someone orders soup.

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Dads out for a smoke

Really to the pub down the road.

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They take my plum duck to the other table.

They eat it. I am not hungry.