Koss, two poems

Koss is a writer and artist with an MFA from SAIC. She has work in or Diode Poetry, Cincinnati Review, Hobart, Spillway, Isacoustic, Spoon River Review (forthcoming), and others. She also has a hybrid book due out in 2020 by Negative Capability Press and work in Best Small Fictions 2020 anthology. Keep up with Koss on Twitter @Koss51209969 and Instagram @koss_singular. Her website is http://koss-works.com.

~~~

Why I Live on the Floor

Some people wonder why I live on the floor. Why I crawl out of my green and red plaid womb each morning and back in at night. Why I crawl on the wooden floor and over two small throw rugs to the refrigerator to get a glass of juice. Why I crawl over to a milk crate, pull out a book, and curl up on the floor to read. Why I write on the floors and sometimes on the walls above the painted baseboards. It is not an eastern thing, living on the floor, it is simply that I cannot live on the ceiling.

first published in SAIC’s Lament Journal

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Chinese Master Number > No Mistakes in Numerology

one

how I arrived

shedding mess of mother

lived often as echo

when Grams left

just me

then

and

now

and when

I leave

again

 

two

shoes not misplaced

Birkenstocks with peels and scents

all the mistaken duplicate orders

always gave one to Max

each brush

paint tube

gratuitous error

a we way of . . .

sum of us

no longer alone

in numerology, luck

when doubled

on itself

two humps

two bumps

twin flames

girl faggotry

lavender menace

too-too

tou-tou

-you

 

two

other half of lucky

the aborted twins

the evil ones arriving later

eating mafé with Max

on a small rubber tree table

two children left

two eyes no longer see

unlucky twos

anomalies

separated

too early [22 = master builder > masturbator > dream-heavy-darlings]

no glue for magic

 

one

off-key a capella

from an androgynous

hazel-eyed boy

echoed in a tiny white

church

chamber

decades ago

the important boy

younger

the gifted one

not me

yet like me

faulty, we

sing

brother

chosen

 

nine

carried me in anxiety

sack, not quite

what we count on

in utero

arrived early

miraculous escapes

pregnancy is

causal

casual

a casualty

karmic

cats have

nine also

live

not Max

 

six

divided by three

is how to get lucky

 

five

kids fathered

father time

had a good time

x 5

also lucky, him

odd

numbers

don’t

make

even

children

~~~

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