she has a knot in her back and four hundred-six poems.

she argues with her typewriter
more than she does her lover-
likes it better, too.

spends more time taking off her makeup
than she does putting it on,
and combs her eyebrows more than her hair.

she won’t drink the last seven drops
of anything.

she only drinks coffee and beer.

she has three ear pierces-
got the third one at her first college
and did not graduate from her second.

she smokes cigarettes.
she smokes dope.
she smokes salmon.

she hates it when work-life
gets in the way of her life’s-work.
she is a waitress, not a server.

she does not nap.

she has a knot in her back
and believes it to be all the poetry
she has not yet written,

bunched up,

aching,

and

fit

to

burst.

Lori Nickoli

from December, 2000 issue