by Amanda Huckins

i feel bloated with sedition.
i don't have a full list of my ills this second.
i'm not ill. i'll whisper it in my mouth
and it'll echo though the tube to where
i oo for you deep down
so much so that i feel zeroes to tell you about it.
i'm addressing it simultaneously.
the sedition and- i'm on a molten galley, gross-

but that's not the end.
i am going to destroy poems later.

then the tile chips. i don't want the thing they thought they had when it was smooth.
writing is not the worst thing i do.
there is a system to put air in every part
of my body, even while i'm laughing with my parents
after my dad pretends to forget that he dumped my mom when they were teenagers.
but phlegm is slowing it down.

Amanda Huckins is a collagist and a political witch.