Dawn McGuire


I was about to use all my letters:
             Tsunami, a sure win!
(the first in 30 years)

and my ambitious blood rose high—
             Hah!—and broke
against my Western hemisphere.

I dropped the tiles. My favorite chair
             snapped against a coast somewhere.
I sank and speechless,

sank. Clots and dashes, bloody snot,
             magnetic resonances,
all the news the same:

a broken brain.
             My tongue’s a fat cigar
that nothing lights.

They feed me from a tray.
             You look away.
It breaks whatever’s left. Friend,

look at me,
             give me
your word—