To: my second hand man
By Annabelle Hackney
I know that I am sun sweet, but it’s January
& sometimes (diagonal from often) I consider what it’s like
to not know the difference between a body and a person
a body: a person who weights down a mattress
a person: a mattress for skin cells and words
you are contour lines desire designed
and often (on the shelf next to daily) I ask the fiberglass
in between us if she is an architect of accidents
& I am just a paper weight for time
Annabelle Hackney grew up in West Tisbury writing poems, wandering the woods, and feeding horses over fences. She lives in San Francisco, far from the woods and the horses for now, but still writing poems.
Welcome back to the Poet’s Corner. Please submit your original poetry to ldroosevelt@gmail.com. February’s theme is love.
