Sandra Simonds

Sandra Simonds was born on August 12, 1977. She grew up in Los Angeles and

received her MFA at the University of Montana. Her poems have appeared in

the Colorado Review, the Seneca Review, Barrow Street and others. She

currently lives in Oakland, CA, and works as an ESL teacher.

A.O.K.

new guise new swimsuit o.k.

took the interstate to the nearest off ramp how dare

you (to climb trees she uses a set of sharpened claws and pentacles of

the dog star)

(this is a beautiful shampoo bottle with a picture of bamboo shoots

o.k.)

Anon Cashier! Anon!

careful of doorbells and a driver's license picture and a check

made out to

Brother Claremont

who roams the supermarket with an exaggerated limp

chex mix in one left hand calendar in right o.k.

careful of dog barks, menus on doorknobs, bells of

distinction

his opal eye when he watches the movie called Essense de Lavandre

how about we dance on the dance floor o.k.? my friend is a

Massachusetts recluse who will not drive anywhere I went to see him o.k.

new guise new sweatshirt o.k. flew back from New Orleans

and a baby was breastfed in the seat next to me no way

I was afflicted with a bad case of air rage o.k.

drank three Heinekens at 5 bucks a piece tried to relax through the

straitjacket clouds and eye shadowed stewards

was met by some Raider-fans and a taxi driver's nonstop

monologue on hashish o.k.

THE EARTHQUAKE PREDICTING CATS

at one point there was order (dis)-tilled

water from a new bottle and bleach

grabbed a blue 3cc syringe for room 1 land-

locked in my skull like a story for the 23 fault lines called tissue

sleepwalking through the air charged static--

electricity the weeks oblong and ill-formed

forced to make due with these Fluid Needles and asphalt is

[Smallest Gage for the Lady]