Friday, July 6, 2012


Declan shared this manuscript with me and I loved it so much, I wanted to post some of it on this blog. Because it is a zombied relationship and the body of Christ (Pecker!). Because of old moldery apartment rituals and their bitter sweetness and gears and the tracks on the floor that can't be buffed out.  I imagine soon, parts or all of this will appear in poetry journals, so be on the look-out! You need to get into the meat of the footnotes.

NOTE: Some lines break where they should not, because the formatting functions on this blog are ratchet.


by Declan Gould

He said, love is a baby drowning in a public pool.

She put the nine dollar gluten-free sourdough bread1 in the freezer in case he ever comes over again.

If the freezer is her mind.

If he is the bread.

She tucked it in the back where it wouldn't get freezer burn.2

If the period that passes while the bread sits in the freezer foregrounds the importance of timing.

If the period that passes while the bread sits in the freezer represents the delay of nourishment.

If the bread is that feeling she had the next morning, and putting it in the freezer is the impossibility of maintenance, its unsustainability.

[page break]

If he feels insecure about freezer burn.

If the bread is that feeling.

If defrosting the bread will be resurrection.

If it will be zombie3 bread, if she will become a zombie too if she eats4 it.

If she is the bread, would consuming herself be narcissistic?5

If they ate the bread together, would that be communion?

If the bread is her hope—again.

If she's so brave that she can live with the bread in the freezer.

[page break]

If the bread isn't alive.6

If the bread will only keep for three months in the freezer.

If the bread gets moldy7.

If one of her roommates eats the bread.

If it turns out he doesn't have Celiac disease.8

If the electricity goes out.

When she realized she could have spent that nine dollars repairing her bicycle brakes9.

When his silence led her to believe that she had bought the bread prematurely.

If Sunday morning were a ceremony.10

on Twitter

, where this blog lives now. because it can be read and posted to through that app, one-handed, on my back, by a body of water, or in the cool olive green light above my mattress. This is articulation my spine had not dreamed of before.

My blog lived on Tumblr for a minute

because it is so much easier to access from my phone. fallinginrealtime.tumblr This is the feed. No, I don't like it. I can't add another virtual box. I'll make due with Twitter.

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