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Don’t tell me I’m all caught up
And don’t tell me to smile like I mean it
I mean the poppies you read backwards Are not for touching
I’m here to reap not to sow
I mean my shoulders are ice caps now
& by this I mean I am a walking avalanche
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In this selfie my face is a sculpture From a music video
My face is a melting chandelier A wine cave wall
A mid-80s sunset
An ocean of cellophane
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In this selfie I think:
I’m so good with my brown rice And organic broccoli
In this selfie I am holding my favorite Kombucha as if to say like me
In this selfie my dog is bored Please do not pet my dog His aura is perfect right now And your energy is a little iffy
Heather Sweeney, she/her, lives in San Diego where she writes, teaches and does visual art. Her chapbooks include Just Let Me Have This (Selcouth Station Press) and Same Bitch, Different Era: The Real Housewives Poems (above/ground press). Her collections, Dear Marshall, Language is Our Only Wilderness (Spuyten Duyvil Press) and Call Me California (Finishing Line Press) are forthcoming this year.