by V. Penelope Pelizzon
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. . . like baboons barking.
Like these baboons by the parking lot, females flashing
melon-ripe vaginas. Or the dog who salutes my front tire, sending his fellow
smellers
a p-mail with martial subject line—
like them, we’re brilliant at making signs
furred and clawed . . . furred and clawed
and beaked, our languages
—so often we’ve plucked
and beaked, our languages
—so often we’ve plucked
what tools we sign them with
from other signers’ bodies.
from other signers’ bodies.
Like feathers.