Peter Schwartz

by Best Poem

The Second State

1.
I’m gone. I’ve gone from trajectory to wax.
I’m surrogate.
If I were an eaten thing, I’d taste like seeds.
I’d be a syllable.

2.

I’m twilight on a scaffold.
I need a table for my health.
I’ll walk through forty-five pounds of sleep.
One wild vacancy.

3.

I’m naked but still rattle.
Paper from rust, transfusions.
Negative parachutes,
and serenaded wreckage.

4.

I eat yogurt.
I traffic and trespass, supported by wishbones.
I’m stained wrenches.
I’m tundra.

5.

I’m neglected omens.
Revival is a kind of monster.
I’m vulnerable as any tourist.
I’m self-stigma.

Peter Schwartz has more styles than a Natal Midlands Dwarf Chameleon. He’s been published in Arsenic Lobster, Epicenters, Media Cake, 5 Trope, Verdad and VOX. He’s currently working on his fourth chapbook, ‘Postcards to the Sun’. See the extent of his shenanigans at: www.sitrahahra.com.

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