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Nicole Wilson

Not Being Able to Breathe, a Knot

Fingertip ripped open by loose staple
prong, blood on the contents

eyeglasses are
one bit mortality one bit recovery
or repair

we hike
we toast

and when a stranger's belongings
rested against me in a crowd, an inconsiderate weight,
I thought I got an insight into rage

as logical as it manifesting in the scoop
of a spoon

A comforter eventually gets ratty
and that in itself is a comfort,
everyone just making it up

draw on the page a symbol of location:
draw on the page a symbol of toxicity:
draw on the page a symbol of wealth:

My father was once surprised
I knew how to operate
a thermostat

a bottle
a reminder to breathe
we recite the Lord's Prayer

but his lord isn't mine
and my lord isn't yours
so the recitation goes outmoded
or extinct

invite a friend to lunch as a sign of optimism
I don't care to have the technological
capability what's better

for the environment
is the opposite of a knot,
a plum staying purple

Bought a glaze for nailpolish chipped off 

             a clutch
             donut pasteurized
             wrinkle in tar

instructed bold font across the face
of the pants commercial

we constructed a flower garden
of violets and arms
to eat again

again we sit
in cubicle for a piece

unwrap the rose
scented candle

It's Taking Practice

A potato is a portrait
in which to mouth

in which to take pleasure
in mashing a fork

we ordered the full tea service

we ordered an upgrade
outside the animal-patterned
plush restaurant interior

what am I forgetting?
it's a having-a-smart-phone feeling

steam floating up
around the stovetop vegetables
going soft & pliable

envious of the childless
some are furious
& never wear a ballcap

Nicole Wilson
is the author of the chapbook Amazing Face (Phantom Limb Press) and the forthcoming collection Supper & Repair Kit (The Lettered Streets Press). A graduate of the MFA Poetry Program at Columbia College Chicago, she lives and teaches in Ohio.