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Rinse Cycle by Meredith MacLeod Davidson 


We are at the end of everything.

Everything! Do we want to win?

The cat bats a cork across the hall

and into your bath: you, interrupted

and naked in this domestic enterprise.

I too wish to shatter the illusion; break

out of the image - stop needing to submit

all of the surveys, adding my data to a pile

from which we pass knowledge to nothing.

We are more sexually attracted to the trees.

Not saying I’d fuck a tree, but the arousal

is more when touching bark than when

we consider the possibility of opening

up our relationship. What is alive?

My hand placed on your unconscious

back cyclically erecting with sleepbreath.

The waterlogged ghost in my wine. A felt

coexistence. There’s not just one unknown

soldier, but the tombs would have you

think otherwise. There’s no such thing

as extinction. Someone always receives

the apocalypse exposed in their hands.


__________________________

Meredith MacLeod Davidson is a Glasgow-based poet and writer, originally from Virginia. Meredith's poetry is published or forthcoming in The London Magazine, Puerto del Sol, trampset, Gutter, Propel Magazine, and elsewhere. 

 

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