Amanda Nadelberg

Toward summer or its dependence On demarcations in the sandy vial Some tree spelling astronaut onto a Planet’s arm, it stopped making sense. I am not an apothecary or a wave Or a dog by the 15 th hole, I am not A light sparking a whole country’s demise. I will never be a towel holding someone’s Sunscreen while they wash it off in foreign Seas. My hair goes up and down, it’s true As it is I am not a bag of tea nor will I ever Be exceptionally happy. Let the director Know I was distressed by the construction Noise, that I had no known allergies that My parents convinced me I was wanted And why wouldn’t you believe them. If the earth when it opened dragged away Our sense of faith, doubt was an Invention I preferred to ignore in the Manner of solicitations by mail.