Four in the morning, I die. Something to do with assault of the blood. I battle a beast
of dust who wears my mother’s face. Whether I win or lose, I wander through orchards
of graying lemons. Shame circles my head, trying to tell me something. I do not listen,
beyond such things now. Father shakes me back home on that planet. My heart & his,
a mirror. At last, Heaven. Everything is a wolf, I was right! Sister weeps on the telephone,
mother almost throws a book & I wear mountains as a prayer shawl, who can I tell this
to? Who will believe me? Nothing is harmless, a farmer of vapor tells me. I love this
place! What did I call that thing, anyway? A body? Don’t make me laugh. Now this
is a body. I run my ﬁngers through my hair & the ocean takes oﬀ her clothes.
My favorite souvenir is a sword left to me by my grandfather. I use it to kill spiders. I am terrified of spiders. Why are there spiders. Thanks, grandpa.
Jeremy Radin is a poet and actor living in Los Angeles. His work has appeared (or is forthcoming) in decomP, The Rattling Wall, Drunk in a Midnight Choir, Souvenir, Radius, and others. He may not have gone to college but he is definitely unemployed. He will spend his life in search of the perfect pancake and he is okay with that.