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Does the body worry if you keep it inside?
Does it feel at home?
Does a body worry, with the shade up to the cars outside,
if you keep it in?
Alicia tells me men are dogs while we mop the floor.
I see her get into their cars when her register is closed.
Her mouth is brown with lipstick; her hair is soft and smells like smoke.
We put the produce out while it’s hard and green.
Alicia bags the old fruit up, juice running in her sleeve.
I ask her where it goes. I like the way the ripe fruit smells.
It seems impossible the green fruit’s all that sells.
In the parking lot, I find her
talking to a little stray.
Cigarette break by the dumpster,
fruit flies landing on her face.
Fruit flies landing on her —
Alicia tells me men are dogs, the way they talk to her.
Sometimes their eyes have felt like hands slipping fingers in my collar.
She asks me where I go and then how much my parents pay.
It seems impossible how much gets thrown away!
Will I know her, this Alicia,
when the summer’s at an end?
Won’t I find a better place
and never see this girl again?
Anyway, this brave Alicia
walks me past the hound dogs baying,
asks me what I think becomes of all the fruit we throw away —
Does a body worry if you keep it inside?
Does it feel home? Can a body survive?
Will you take it to the cellar, the bones and the tether,
lay the bones of the dog and the body together?
Does the body worry if you keep it in?
released May 10, 2019
John Dunlop | Cello
Sofia Hirsch | Violin
Laura Markowitz | Viola
Robinson Morse | Bass