HAD AN IDEA.
by Julia Eng
the words:
carpenter’s white
fall in ribbons to your
coffee cup
and then back
out through black
through your teeth’s
fragile grasp and
the pointed enamel gaps
in those places i know as well as
you on a couch in a loud, vast
studio room
into the belly of a
snake-shaped bushel
full of bud
light from double h