One Poem by Collier Brown

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Perforate the curtains and the roof,
amplify the kettle till the bulb
breaks, disassemble, brick by brick,
the egg yolk yellow sitting room
if that will let the stars in, the rain,
the pollens that perfume blonde bees—
whatever it is that piques, greens,
plumes and makes the home no place
to live for the living, whatever it is
that makes inside a disgrace, where
even outside is barely enough space
for the eyes of one body to exist.




Collier Brown runs the Od Review and is editor at 21st Editions and Edition Galerie Vevais. His poems have appeared in Best New Poets, Rattle, Asheville Poetry Review, Barrow Street, and elsewhere, including two limited editions, Moth and Bonelight (2010) and To the Wheatlight of June (2013).

Photo of honeycomb courtesy Pixabay.

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