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| Laura Letinsky, "Untitled #85" |
Sunday
Sunday is my day to pretend I am not
animal I clean my clothes and wash
the pots that have pondered
for a week and grow
not in size that would be preposterous
but in life egregious
they mimic the rest of the world
or at least the part that runs
behind your back whenever you turn.
I’m sad to think that everything
in the world has already been touched
or nearly like a rock I found sitting in a gutter
by a flamingo feather I picked up
the rock and not the feather because though
they both sat perfectly next to one another sharing
color and a yearning for the market or a sleek city
condo the feather must have been retched
so I picked up the rock and not the feather
put the rock in my pocket smooth from some other
long place and time
and watched the feather lend the gutter pink
starving itself with generosity and ecstasy
while a trickle from someone washing their car
slid it closer and closer to the drain.
– Adam Shutz
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