By Dora Malech
If by truth you mean hand then yes
I hold to be self-evident and hold you in the highest-
K.O. to my O.T. and bait to my switch, I crown
you one-trick pony to my one-horse town,
dub you my one-stop shopping, my space heater,
juke joint, tourist trap, my peep show, my meter reader,
you best batteries-not-included baring all or
nothing. Let me begin by saying if he hollers,
end with goes the weasel. In between,
cream filling. Get over it, meaning, the moon.
Tell me you’ll dismember this night forever,
you mu punch-drunking bag, tar to my feather.
More than the sum of our private parts, we are some
peekaboo, some peak and valley, some
bright equation (if and then_ but_, if er then uh).
My fruit bat, my gewgaw. You had me at no duh.
Dora Malech earned a BA in Fine Arts from Yale College in 2003 and an MFA in Poetry from the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop in 2005. Her first full-length collection of poems, “Shore Ordered Ocean,” was published in 2009, and the Cleveland State University Poetry Center published her second collection, “Say So,” in 2011.