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ERIN
DRUMMOND
interdisciplinary animist art
I think my liver knows
but my spleen wants independence, its own flag, a handgun, a blowjob
you’re so new to this, whisper the ribs,
we’ve been here thousands of years, listening with increasing subtlety.
blood touches me just the same says the spleen,
I'll do what I damn well please.
we all share the blood, says the heart.
finger slips a tiny bit on the carrot knife
through paper skin and air
you float face up ears underwater
I hear the drum and drum and drum
we turned
to people who turned into words
and want to live in the future.
ink feathered humans,
bones dipped in narrowly
missed paradises.
silver,
a pixel-stained skull and garbled
gadgets, the back of your throat too precious
to see
and you have seen it coming
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