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Poetry by Jennifer Stockdale 

 

 

© 2007 Jennifer Stockdale

 

 

 

I'D LIKE MY LOVE TO HURT LIKE THAT

she presses the palm of your hand (or cheek

if she can reach) & extends her claws
kneading you like bread as you pet
& though it hurts when she's

digging into your hip if she's lying
on your belly, you know it's a good thing
—that's what kittens do when

they're nursing: nourished &
purring, you can't help
smiling & endure it—content but

maybe hemorrhaging a little

 

 

 

 

 

ELIOT'S CLAIM TO FAME


with a little
"t" & backwards
my name is toilet.

 

 

 

 

 

All work is property of Jennifer Stockdale.

 

 

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