The shape of things–
A new year at almost 50
what’s
that thing
looming over
us in the polka dot
sky or behind closed
doors, the cigar-shaped
suppository — the relief
when it’s over the mamm-
ogram machine lifted from
the squashed breast like a
papal edict. A new year
silhouetted against the
stars, missile stealthy
as their submarines
before Engima
cracked them
open as easy
a s c a r d –
o m o m
p o d s
annaquon 