in my bedroom there is no real poetry but the polaroid picture i've taken of you wearing only a long white t-shirt
M.G. Martin

i've bought every book of verse ever written & now i'm burning these books in my bedroom because there is no real poetry but the polaroid picture i've taken of you wearing only a long white t-shirt, in my bedroom. in the picture, if you look close & then hard enough, you will see the birth of neon happening right above & behind your right collarbone. but in the picture it looks like your left collarbone. above & behind your right collarbone is a word. burn is the word. burn is in neon, a way of color that has never happened before.

above & behind your left collarbone is another word. it is too much neon to make out. neon green washes out the word. the word above your left collarbone makes my nose think about matches & by the time neon is born, i am burning. i don't know what i am doing. but your polaroid your polaroid your polaroid is the reason my bedroom is on fire tonight, even though, i don't know what i'm doing. it would be a shame for wind to blow your polaroid out of my hand & into the erasure of fire. it would be the end of neon. but the window is closed & there is no wind, just words on fire.

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