Irene Cooper
stroke
right over left, arched sense
left over right, ripple thru toes
time to hold fast underwater
in a crack of callous
blue subway map
heads uptown in search of a heart
1000 lie(s) in a locked box
journey of 1000 miles
one step
lock step
step livelytime to dig a diamond, then loose it
rich veins clog with fat or something
stop the flow
time to pull a child through the current
time to hold to another like you
til your pulse goes unanswered
purple be the mountains majesty or
rage too big for its shoes
wearing everything but ambition
Irene Cooper lives, writes, and cooks in Oregon, is a fierce advocate for public school, arts curricula, accessible health care, any available toilet, and the popular vote, among other things. She believes that language is imperfect, and so, miraculous.
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