ON DOMESTIC ECOSYSTEMS
This jar
of yours has
people inside.
I feed them
jam. I lick
the knife.
Let’s fold
a map
of the sea
into thirds
and bury it
out back.
Nights
like these
the moon
is a round
fact like
a seed or
a lid or
the mark
on your
skin my
mouth will
leave behind.
—from Rattle #54, Winter 2016
__________
Liv Lansdale: “Last year I met a poet at AWP, and months later ran into her again under very different circumstances. I’d introduced myself solely as an editor; when she found out I wrote as well, she asked me to write her a poem. Something about anticipating a specific reader—particularly a semi-stranger—gave rise to this one. I doubt I could replicate the circumstances. If I do, I’ll be the woman asking a stranger to write her a poem.” (website)
