Kristine Snodgrass and Maureen Seaton

Fabel

I am dissipating. That is my privacy policy. I have realized that you have made dandelions in me and that we can never end this conversation. We are the volume of the impure provisions. And I do not have to love. Let go of the mollycoddles. Here comes a rein, a rage, a vein. Even if we are always, there is this fable. All of the above. Sometimes I refrain in favor of slavering or wallowing. I revert to billybudding. That is my endless passion, mein Neigung. I have to lighten up. What's the volume? What's the destination? I need a bigger purse. I am driving to Miami. * Moira began her descent while bent over a microscope observing sperm. Some had already defrosted, but many were logy. “Boys” said Moira, who never procrastinated, “Wachen auf!” Moira leaped and doddled. She had to let go of the boys, finally. She wanted to say auf wiedersehen, but it was too much like that TV show with the models. She thought of putting on her best dress and parading down the cat walk. Sperm! Sperm! * I never had a true pathology report, one with results from my echo-postcard-iagram. I wasn't always like this. Sometimes I brought a loving quality to the occasion. Or a black martini. Miami paid me back for all the times I made fun of Chicago, even though I was cold there and all my sperm froze solid. Muy kalt. * Weiblich. I have always had this fiber in me. The spindling spurs of eco-terrorism and mammograms. I stopped sucking the cosmos and tinis and was paid by Miami for it. Instead, we got phrasal verbs and hasn'ts. I can't make fun of this place anymore. My sperm melted into the gold of commonality. I thought the worst thing about me was macroscopic. I was deceived by magnification. For all my running around, I was conceived in a vial. Kaiserin. These are the wherewithal-the light. Nefertiti or Maya will tell me in a song. We can only limit ourselves by our shoes or the weather. I always thought I was microbial. A whip of a particle on its way down my throat. We itch. Red, swollen weather. A collection of missing shoes.

Kristine Snodgrass' poetry has appeared in many publications, including Coconut, 2River View, and Apalachee Review. Her collaborative triads with Maureen Seaton and Neil de la Flor have been published in a chapbook, Facial Geometry (NeO Pepper Press), among various other places. Her dual collaborations with Maureen Seaton have appeared most recently in LIT and Hayden's Ferry Review. She is an instructor of English at Florida A&M University in Tallahassee.

Maureen Seaton's most recent books are Sex Talks to Girls, a memoir from University of Wisconsin Press (2008); Cave of the Yellow Volkswagen, her sixth book of poems (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2009); and Facial Geometry (NeO Pepper Press, 2006), poems co-authored with Neil de la Flor and Kristine Snodgrass.