You Hothouse First (Poem)

 

“Special Order Tulips are the only bulbs available for shipping during the early fall months.”—tulipworld.com

 

Tomorrow morning 1 man’s brain puts

a million other men’s brains on hold. Tom

is my dad’s name and will likely be my son’s,

my protagonist’s, my god’s. Feminism works in

the ways I say it will. No, you’re problematic.

The women who get hot w/ exhaustion are

never the 1s who know it, else they’re

always the 1s who know it. I know

my freckles are like holes in the

receiver. Telemarketers who

call at breakfast make me

miss having some1 to tell

me about fiber. In September

I’ll tell ’em all to rig this vessel

with Twizzlers. Sailors Tom finds

on this shore don’t know shit about

sugar, don’t know it from daffodil food,

or that to love it 1 must first love 1’s own

tongue. Try to guess what My Life lady said:

Woolf had been writing about war that whole

damn time! I mean, when are the hot 1s ever the

1s who know it? No you fetch the flowers, Toms.

My vases died yesterday. I can see all a-million

of you in their sparkly seeds tho: the prize

at the bottom of each box I bust open.

 

 

Liv Lansdale graduated a month ago from Columbia University with a degree in English. She is a team player but is always willing to take the initiative and start her own projects. Her biggest flaw is working too hard. She is currently working on a series of cover letters.

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