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      September 22, 2015LorazepamSam Sax

      i don’t know shit
      about the throat
      of a sparrow.
      how it can sing
      & fly at the same
      time. this couch
      a sovereign object.
      this back, a cadillac
      on cinderblocks.
      i stood once,
      not for something,
      rather, on my way
      to the kitchen
      for something to eat.
      i bit into an apple,
      quite the achievement.
      i wanted to be high
      so lied to the doctor
      about my anxiety,
      the panic attacks
      began then. naming
      the disease made it
      open like a primer
      in my chest. wicked
      mouth, peeling apple
      after apple after reading
      their skins are poison,
      same goes for the seeds.
      my man is a monster,
      gunfire in the street.
      praise the demigod
      pharmacy for this
      calm blood remedy,
      which lets me do
      nothing. my back
      pinned to the cushion
      again. my body, this
      magnificent prison,
      the ceiling above
      bigger than any sky,
      one a bird might fall
      out of, singing         as it dies.

      from #48 - Summer 2015

      Sam Sax

      “This poem’s from a series of drug sonnets—uncut rock pulled from the dark earth. I love the tension between the sonnet form and what potential is alive and writhing in the poem. I want my work to sing from the page—when I first fell in love with poetry is when a book came to life in my hands and head.”