Look at how Ohio repeats itself: accordions, sandwiches nothing against something
nests. One Appalachian Highway runs parallel with
another until it doesn’t. Pawpaw trees are easy to spot in Autumn
because of their yellow leaves that rust against a grey sky. If you do not like the
weather in Ohio they say wait fifteen minutes and it will change
they do not say you will probably not like then, either.
In a spring that I am doomed to relive, I fold my body against a woman I love in some way
that I believe to be whole and fair. Fair as in: she doesn’t know what to do with
my body it would never occur to her to taste such strange flowers but she likes to look
says I can touch her understory this is what my understory looks like: a straight woman will
give you her weather, and you will hold it in your hands because it fits there.
The pawpaw tree needs no partner to reproduce drops it seeds into the darkness that blankets
the understory: I learn this lesson a thousand times it is always worth revisiting
I ask the pawpaw tree if they feel single and they say No The pawpaw tree has perfect
flowers: as in possessing both female and male we call that perfect
I am like a boy or as one when my body shakes from the inside out by her hand.
If the West Virginia banana falls from its tree through some strange ceiling to the bottom-land
and I am not there to hear it who will sing her song
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