Breaking Up With a Writer
by Jane Noel Dabate

He wrote exactly three pages about me
In two different cities
On diet coke and deity, I sit,
I sip, I didn’t think he’d care if I wrote back.

The corner of the paper in my lap 
Warms up to an eyeball, so I turn around
And there’s his eye again, tears grabbing the loose leaf to
Sand man mornings and eye goo when I wake up for the third time. 

I never stopped to ask where paper mache
Would taste so much like crack snowflake
In between a few walls recklessly shellacked together.
I haven’t bothered to recount the calendar, but 

It’s been four months and growing
One for every wall between sips between lips
The walls bend back three pages, 
I lick the sugar dried on both our bones.
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About barkingsycamores 183 Articles
Barking Sycamores is a literary journal entirely edited and operated by queer neurodivergent people of color. We publish poetry, artwork, short fiction (beginning with Issue 3), creative nonfiction (beginning with Issue 8), and hybrid genre work (beginning with Issue 9) by emerging and established neurodivergent writers as well as essays on neurodiversity and literature and book reviews (beginning with Issue 10).

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