Jennifer Patino

Prose-Poem: The Placing

The green of the air.
The scent of choking desert.

I want to call you up
and say that every
movie I watch lately
stars you.

Now my mouth doesn’t know what
my shadow is saying.

“The miracle wasn’t that the statues were crying;
It was in the amount of people who undoubtedly
believed that they were witnessing one.”

while deciphering spatter, I remember
your squinting, your pondering,
& the magnetics of twiddling fingers

There is no
resolution
or solution
when a ghost
hops time zones

the cerebral rattling
has ceased,
broken through
the attic static

Empty beak speak,
silence can seem so deafening

Sleep, sweet,
tomorrow stings…

Watch how I attempt

to balance inflated eggs

upon my last spoon.

When I was in the state of erosion —

— things were ok