Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Nineteen
Spring 2009
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literary foxes
Janie Gleason

library matriarchs in australian jackets,
with lips in a thin line,
correct and forbid me, but I can't help myself;
books make me tumble into welcome chests all shouting,
make hurricanes blow across my lemon-red face.
my lovers are all literature,
my whiskers quiver
with essays and novellas,
I read until my eyes pupate.

and I am a leaf, a fly on the wall
feeling the fury of my tiny black limbs
holding me gently in spite of gravity.

About Janie Gleason

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