michael j. mcclure





Watch me I put my fist in my mouth because I can.

Oh, humiliated, you should do something with your mouth.

My doctor said that. He was stained up his chin.


I dress like a Christmas tree for a reason.

My doctor said. He had peachstrands clumped on his chin

and looking almost bloody. I nearly started crying.


I love you are you my airline ticket?

My jaw is sore at where it connects, please

talk back to me. I hear you breathing


your breath reminds me of tissue paper.

The thin drone you make when you sleep it nearly

breaks itself on darkness. And when you talk in light


I think it will be colored. Put your hand out I have

something to place in it. Please talk. Put your

hand out. Listen and if you start talking we can leave.