Hannah Lipper '15
Gold chippings on a mirror,
I search for you
in the Colombian part of town.
I sell you my empire for ashes
like Dip‘N DotsTM sells ice cream of the future and you cut me
a discount. I am one derived from my own fractured rib;
This is not a riddle.
I am the person who cuts
your poem in two – a glass partition between a yes
and a poem about the moon or the loss
of your V-CardTM; I am the letter made of PapyrusTM
that crumbles in your hands before you are able to read
my confessions. I am Trapped
in the Closet for 22 YouTubeTM
videos (This is not
a riddle). I am the wavelengths you see
in cheap window screens
I am like a sensitive and sexy
musician I am
hoping you like all of this.