Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Twenty-one
Winter 2009
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I Went to Portland Alone
Tanya Collings

Dear Sequoia,
Ross Hollywood Chapel
on Barbur street
has neon signs
in the curve of your nose.
My thoughts of you,
as frequent as microbreweries.
Your teeth smile in me
like wine store window displays.

Dear Curly-Haired-Bear-God-of-the-Bonsai,
Umbrella toting Oregonians
wearing sunroofs
or ganja pupil raincoats
match the uncut of your hair.
I sent the Douglas Fir your text message.
His reply cannot be transcribed.

Dearest la Loba,
If you were here
your busty cacti
would catch the wet, sweet
rain of me on outstretched tongue
after taking a piss
in bus stop blackberry fields.

Dear Man Made of Sound,
Tonight I sleep
in the center of a dreamcatcher
on a marriage therapists bookshelf.
This land is self-medicated,
self-lubricated.
Portland weeps for you.

Dear Lovers,
My new witch hazel Oregonian
hates to waste roadkill.
She carves me handfuls
of fresh, furry bouquets.
When I open the half jammed
doors of her mouth
you will all cry out
when we snag
on a lip ring.

About Tanya Collings

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