rapidly blinking
her vision became
an old film reel

opening her throat
cancerous necklaces
spilled onto cotton-poly blends

elsewhere,
a man barked
and blood jumped into my mouth

spit trail backtrack
astrological decay
waits for no one

her movie began to skip
but it wasn’t really noticeable
(eyes were already gone)

buttered crackers underfoot
there was enough room for everyone
and we all loved noir

Sara Matson’s poems can be found in The Journal Petra, DATABLEED, Ghost City Review, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, electric grandma is available from Another New Calligraphy and her chaplet, Forgotten: Women in Science is available from Damaged Goods Press. Sara lives in Chicago with her rad husband + cats, and Tweets as @skeletorwrites