Climbing in Cupboards

The last dinosaurs are sleeping here and the

superbest mutest bluest

feeling means so little

in the face

of where we’re going

                                                     Hunger is temporary

disappearing in the morning        or earlier

as soon as you take your first bite of light

The supermarket feeds on

your inability to feed yourself

                                                            I am glued to my


When the sky was falling you felt like that

                    so very close to the floor

                    and belonging there

To sleep with

your head on the sill as

though you’re staring out

the window            won’t fool anyone

They will know you’re looking inside for something

in dreams

The wait for everything is a

nervous wait


I am a wolflet

and the moon means something

The opposite

of summer shade or nuclear

shelter                or memorylessness

illumination of your dark parts                but only partially

Mark Mazzoli is from New York. His work has appeared in Bombay Gin, Common Ground Review, Structo, Slippery Elm, and the Mississippi Review, among other literary magazines. He is not a witch, no matter what anybody says.

Alison Scarpulla

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