As You Said, I Am Nothing but Skin & Bones So I Must Eat

Abstract

As You Said, I Am Nothing but Skin & Bones So I Must Eat W. M. Lobko (bio) No time now for the vodka in a huge carafedesigned for table water. The blinchiki & varenyky exist as form,in cupboard flour, in the earth that will yield cherries.Walnuts not yet ground into powder will make the melted chocolateshine in the waves a wooden spoon & a scratched metal bowlsummon when driven by your forearm. Season of onions, may festivals of garlicarise, may their piles molt into rot before I am able to approximateany quadrant of the laden deck sawhorses, much less a dish that can reston the lace wedding dresses you made for our major tables. I, sitting here simmering, simmering,grown burnt on slow for weeks, result of odd products at hand,& time, & global accident. I the product of 10:30 in the morning,between meals & so reliant on them, [End Page 120] preoccupied by where will the next one come from now,from me? OK, & whom can I give it to,I got that from you. [End Page 121] W. M. Lobko w. m. lobko's poems, reviews, & interviews have appeared or are forthcoming in journals such as Iowa Review, Crazyhorse, Kenyon Review, Boston Review, & Guernica. A Pushcart Prize nominee & a semi-finalist for the 92Y / Boston Review "Discovery" Prize, he currently teaches in the New York City area. Read more at wmlobko.com. Copyright © 2023 W. M. Lobko