Today I’m punctual. Still bare in
here. Across
the conference hall the mingling
starts. Aware of Her,
of course, glass flower shoved into my
throat. Her network
congeals around her. Mission: I’m
supposed to network
here, strut my stuff and seal a snarky
deal across
this sewer of convention. Will not
speak to Her.
I’ll speak to Larva Boy here. Only
glance at Her
by accident. Untangle ratty strands of
network,
that nest of icy shards. The seed.
I’ll come across
the things inside of me I need. I need
to cross her off my network.
