Laura Solomon


the body
is a party
we wish
would never end
in war & peace
there is a moment
in which
a bunch of
soldiers in a lake
are bathing
young & strong
& beautiful
their naked
bring up death
a body always does
& is
like a book in that way
finite, contained
but within
each to its own
whoever touches
another body
touches life & death both
whoever touches
my body touches
his or her own
I hate war
& peace ‘I like
beating people up’
we are making
love or war
every time we touch
even this
little finger counts


after we broke up
we went on tour
in philly I failed
to slap you
only my own arm
all because
the night before
in nyc
you crawled into an air
mattress with me
which remained
through the night
to my surprise
that by dawn
it still hadn’t gone flat
on the floor the air
all the more
unreasonably swollen
your morning genitals
kept trying
to wake up mine
I got up & put on
a see-thru shirt
in an earnest effort
to ignore you
as I had since charlotte
at the econolodge
where we shared a room
& separately in it
tried to sleep
the bed was hard
& so was your cock
in a dream
I twisted off
your new
girlfriend’s head
look, it’s only
plastic I said
& held up the head
proudly as proof
to you who had
by the time
we reached baltimore
turned irreversibly
into plastic too

Laura Solomon was born in 1976 in Birmingham, Alabama. Her books include Bivouac (Slope Editions, 2002), Blue and Red Things (UDP, 2007), and The Hermit (UDP, 2011). Other publications include a chapbook, Letters by which Sisters Will Know Brothers (Katalanché Press 2005) and Haiku des Pierres / Haiku of Stones by Jacques Poullaoueq, a translation from the French with Sika Fakambi (Editions Apogée, 2006). Her poetry was recently included in the anthology Poets on Painters (Witchita State Press 2007), has appeared in magazines across North America and Europe and has been translated into ten languages. Most recently she has lived in Paris, Philadelphia, and Verona, Italy.

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