12:00p.m.
Jillian Clark
i only want to exist
to be as pure as you are
when you're on the floor
and surrounded by all your things
(i will interrupt this poem with poetry
to say "thank you for quiet hands"
this poem doesn't want a state of mind
this poem is just drinking water
on a sad day
when i can't go swimming
because i'm dying
but really because the freckles on my palms
are disappearing)
4:35p.m.
Jillian Clark
i only think you're nice
because you never know what i'm talking about
if you remain lost in all my poems
i might forget about all the time spent
holding my breath in darkrooms
i might forget what the dog whisperer told america
and how i tried to apply that episode
about diablo the chihuahua
to my cat
if i could sleep in a book case like her, i would
9:37 a.m.
Jillian Clark
headache a green apple
i woke up next to your face
and got lost in the frantic braille
of your sleep marks
i'll have you know: i feel really weird
about my hands looking exactly the same
i spend my days thinking about my days
when its cold, i'll be glad to wear my new jacket
and when its sunday, i'll be glad to wear panic
2:02 a.m.
Jillian Clark
i need you here
to change the direction of this poem
and to tell me i don't have skin cancer
to take my clothes off
and put them back on