"Point & Click" by Hannah Nathanson

Analyze how high you can
jump with no running head
start. A collar tucked beneath
a wool sweater, like when you
call me tangible: come on over

Blue eyes that call themselves
green and art displays that
collide like sequins
girl,                                dance.

Consume what strangers cooked
and rehearse before advertising,
like when you wore head
phones that weren’t yours.


Was it you or someone else who
said it? Things grow faster indoors.

Well, maybe they do,
maybe they do.


"How Many Sins Were Wasted in
That Bed?" by Hannah Nathanson


Open the world like a rotten


Corrupted boundaries, jack
in the box. Silk curtains
between us. Tremor
of delusion, wild days
return to an absence of age.