On the Oc­ca­sion Of

The Iowa Review - - NEWS - Rachel mil­li­gan

It’s eas­ier be­fore the first time be­cause af­ter­ward, you know

what you’re do­ing. This type of know­ing is a sweat­mark

left on the leather seat of a taxi cab. You think of

your­self. Is she laun­dry fresh, in­choate suc­cubus,

is she a ge­nius? O, how I love the smell of ge­nius.

Baby lips part to let the snake tongue come through.

Once, through a ho­tel win­dow, I saw a river­boat

casino wink at me. O, ob­scen­ity. I’m told backyard cats take

time grow­ing into those big heads. I’m told

night­time brings you closer to the dead. I’m told

the caged oc­to­pus al­ways gets her meat. My glasses

gone, this night­time softly tears pa­per into pieces with

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