Ken Taylor

stockholm syndrome

 

ask a swede to say seven hundred seventy-

seven & presto: love! spare rooms ricochet

nesting wood grain & pastels. twilight slant

keeps me occupied with that display close

to joy to endure all i’m subject to: mormor

& morfar overwhelming with öl & herring

until i drop to the yard in a sherbet jacket.

sauna nurtured to take the last starch out.

 

i might just distinguish the pitch of spritely

at their latitude. wind seems familiar. hands

begin with damage & hold open saab doors.

each custodial is an algebra of contractions:

sju hundra sjuttio sju. sju hundra sjuttio sju.

meaning not enough chairs for this smiling.

 

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