Tuesday poem #237 : Michelle Detorie : PINK DOLPHIN

There is never enough time.
The moon makes a milky
slick upon the sea. We are all
mothers swollen with the hell
of being human, of being
in between. The houses
we make have all
the rooms but the one
where we can meet. That room
floats in the belly of the beast
slushing the whale-road
of alphabets and broken birds.
Still, we can feel it. Bright
fins flashing. Sometimes
pretending is enough.

Michelle Detorie is the author of numerous chapbooks including Fur Birds (Insert Press), How Hate Got Hand (eohippus labs), and Bellum Letters (Dusie). She also makes visual poems, poetry objects, time-based poetry, and curates the public art project, The Poetry Booth. Her first full-length collection, After-Cave, was released with Ahsahta Press in late 2014. In 2015 she completed The Sin in Wilderness, a book-length erasure about love, animals, and affective geography. She is currently at work on a collection of prose pieces called FERAL PLANETS.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan