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To Accept the Void


a devastation gives way


the void invites me over for tea and prickly pear

it explains oblivion in terms of a carnivorous clock


we keep company and dine, the void and I

we recite nonsense like imaginary manger menagerie


the void requests calzone for second dinner

I know the void is not me because of the ricotta


the void notices I stare off when it's speaking

it catches me floating about in a glassy jar nearby


the void keeps me without air until I pay attention

once, I jarred so long I became bioluminescent


the void has become concerned with my quietude

the void expects hullabaloo from its neighbors


we’ve started a bridge club, the void and I

meetings are every Thursday in a bottomless chasm


one day, I was left screaming in the void’s backyard

the void came with a ladder and asked to keep it down


the void has several guests living in its rift

the rift is between a wheelbarrow and some chickens


the void hiccups single-noted croaks like mud hen

I see a salt panne rising in its throat upon closer inspection


the void has terrible insomnia from late-night eating

I never asked the void where it keeps its stomach


the void is a misnomer, is taboo and expediency,

a disgorging of shape--a fake


GABRIELLA ADRIANA IACONO is a writer, artist, and educator from Staten Island, New York. Her work has appeared in Defunkt Magazine, NYSAI Magazine, Portmanteau LDN, and elsewhere. Currently, she lives in Houston, Texas, where she is a third year MFA candidate at the University of Houston. Iacono is completing her first collection of poetry.


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