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Abstract Painting

Salt Headache

So we break up before the guests arrive, dinner

burning on the stove, so what, stole her heart

on the bathroom floor with those ugly tiles, well

water is cold filled with star shadows

I knit my veins, you said I was in love with another

woman, I want guests with clean shirts

flower buttons, stay in the house with us

hands like rosary beads, red and purple bouquet

of frost, all those sleepless nights

when it wasn’t just tequila and peppermint

gems tucked inside rings, twist, sparkle, evening

a threat, I scream your name into the surf, resuscitating

fishes and fisherman love can’t be wrapped neatly,

gently, throw lamps and anchors overboard, nets

to hug owl lobsters whose brilliant

blue bodies sit in your cast iron skillet full

of sizzling butter and pasta, bundles of silverware

it’s as if we have been in love all along, I’m still

the last one to know when to turn off the lights.

Image by Álvaro Serrano

Sam Moe is the first-place winner of Invisible City’s Blurred Genres contest in 2022, and the 2021 recipient of an Author Fellowship from Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Her first chapbook, “Heart Weeds,” is out from Alien Buddha Press and her second chapbook, “Grief Birds,” is forthcoming from Bullshit Lit in April 2023. You can find them on Twitter and Instagram as @SamAnneMoe.

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