Food Chains and Factory Landscaping

by: Nathan Kemp

I self-medicated for 10 minutes
on the floor, waiting for a reason
to tell you that I grew up listening
like a material girl, like an empty
flower vase filled with deer urine.
What I really wanted to say before
was that I loved you like an adjunct
mathematics professor loves to smear
the marker on the overhead projector.
I was exhausted by your restraint.
When I talked about addiction at first,
that night—I was referring to how
nothing is an addiction until you suck
cock for it. About how God is second
on my list labeled food chain and how
I really felt. The summer I was haulin’
mulch. The summer I planted lime green
ferns around cobalt signs sighing the last
sigh of the American worker. The summer
I once wanted to relive ended in a house fire.