I threw out my desk. it was wobbly—something to do with the screws that I didn’t screw in properly. they went in on an angle, the degree to which doesn’t matter, but what I learned is that angles make non-angled things wobbly. I hear the romans had the same issue with the cross, though it was nails not screws, & thick wood instead of whatever cheap material ikea products are made from. I imagine jesus hanging by a 45-degree angle, pointing less toward heaven & more toward a star that accidentally fell off a cliff. what I’m saying is I woke up not hungry for anything. instead of eating, I inhaled science, took a long drag of lust. I swallowed a prayer. I went out & bought a new desk.
Lee Patterson's poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Entropy, Ethel Zine, The Airgonaut, and Unbroken, among others. His chapbook, I get sad, is forthcoming from Ethel Zine in late 2019.