Dear Editor,         or         Owl

Attached are poems in which I spin my head three hundred sixty degrees attempting to stare at myself. Attached are poems in which I attempt to eat myself starting with my toes. Attached are poems in which I break windows by sneezing. Attached are poems in which I am a mountain. Attached are poems in which I write dedications to all the steaks I’ve eaten in my life. Attached are poems I sourced ethically. Attached are poems about all the sex I’ve tried to have with a half-full ice tray. Attached are poems in which I am a mispelling. Attached are some red squiggles that are my veins. Attached are poems in which I spin my head three hundred sixty degrees only to find out I am surrounded by mirrors.

Attached are poems in which I look at myself for a long time. Attached are poems in which I draw the umbilical cord back into my bellybutton. Attached are poems in which I fertilize myself and rebecome flower.

Attached are poems in which I never look in the mirror but definitely spend a good amount of time near the mirror. Attached are the poems I said I would write eventually that I never got around to writing. Attached are the poems I almost wrote but got distracted by the mirror I wasn’t looking at.

Attached is the Tarot reading where the deck wasn’t shuffled and the reader pulled Wheel of Fortune, Justice, and The Hanged Man, and I thought I was special.

Attached are poems in which I box myself into poems which box me into myself.

Attached are poems in which I had no choice   except  to  acknowledge  the   mirror.

Attached are poems in which I tell the story of myself that I never quite tell.

Attached are poems in which I repurpose my journal into something to share with you.