“Is it this yet” Francine stuffs statements like this into jam in a jar placed there by her figs because she likes things contained, then opened again. I like, she writes, the unthinkable, taste-able. Francine doesn’t wait for him at the bus-stop. Or anywhere, she writes, that I cannot imagine myself in my underwear. Francine writes “is it this yet” on her serviette with her fingers covered in figs. If this yet what it is, she writes, very good. I taste what it is he’d say if not afraid to love. Francine stuffs statements like this into jam in a jar in her car and drives to places she can imagine herself in her underwear.
Nat’l Poetry Month 10/30 *Inspired by Nicolle and also my high drive for pleasure which is always unsatisfied