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2 Poems

Cleo Abramian

More Renaissance

I was banned from the apartment

I was banned from your pelvic floor

Your pulse is a rock turning

Like all good nature poems are born

In a dried-up streambed filled with white women

So close to Route 66

When you took a metal detector out into the snow

I could have been yours

To perform my ritual of tuning in

I wrap myself in tape

I hold the skylight upright

Is there blood on my pants

Have I made myself into a circle again

My dehydrated peach wants a hot benevolence

My boyfriend’s sister thinks it’s wrong

To be with my condition

In the real world

A billboard for UFOs

A blood orange veil

Catching fish in its net

It’s been a long time

Carrying around this plastic

Bride, I lay her down

In the morning I put my finger

In her mouth and smear the paint





Thalassophobia

My rebound is immortal
What do you want
In a chatroom
I’m a fraud
For expensive earrings
A wrong hour
For me to call
Walking through the yard
With one sock off
I cut into the siren
A debauchery of sky
Baggies of shit are roses
Simone says there can be
Whole love without
The fear of a forever
Matthias says by the time
He gets to Beirut everyone
Will be gone
Spring doesn’t exist
In the black fat loop
I am housebroken
Like a caricature in bloom
Take me to a public space
I want that one nude
Of you and the Himalayan
Drinking from the tap

Cleo Abramian lives and writes between Colorado and Western Mass.