Mechanics of Deformable Bodies
There is a rest in our conversation. So I breathe
loudly, roll down the window to hear what it’s like
outside. It’s like
noisy. A kind of noise accompanied by leaving. A kind
of leaving noise. A door slam. A coffin. Imagine
a man signing a check, his pen stabs a decimal point, the number 34,
scribbled small above
black spider waiting in the corner.
Sommer Browning has poems in The New York Quarterly, spork, Mississippi Review and elsewhere. Her comics, Asthma Chronicles, have appeared in The Stranger and online. She lives, works and plays in New York City.