DANIELLE CLOUGH

antisuppressant

we are readymade reticence
eating the same meal for eternity

eyes melting mirrors into spirulina
a wellness juice, outworn

i’m good at risking nothing
unmarred by wrenched thinspo

a lie for a pebble is still a lie,
the diagnosis: proximity.

you witness me tantrum like a toddler
we’re harsh in the wrong ways

i remind myself to love is to let go
a bee sting creation, an astigmatic bird

i learned to sew to carry more
my mom willed me not the bag

but pious heartburn, a rubber band
memory, a bass line ritual. we

whittle sea salt into clarinets—
the ocean between us

is an uncracked back, a gong
turned harp, an unhummed tune,

i’m learning to wade is
just to stand

Danielle Clough is a poet from Los Angeles. She works at the Los Angeles Review of Books.