OCD (You Stop By To Tell Me How Cruel Life Is)


                                                 And then I tell you

you make me feel better. I eat the fruit

and the bread—the body, you say—and I go

so far as to eat the core and the vine

the vine the vine the vine                         even after

you’ve told me to stop. It’s cold in here,

I say, and you nod as if this were

the simplest math in the world. I ask you

to stay, and still you go. I eat the vine

until my gums bleed, but you ignore me.

You cast me out as if I were silver water

on a blood lake. I offer coffee and more bread

but you’re already gone, and the offer is left

hanging only only only only                         only for the sake

of a doorknob. Please, I say, to no one, don’t

leave me open like this. I’ve left the door

unlocked for you.


About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she works as the Departmental Secretary of English and World Language Studies at Indiana University South Bend, and remains closely affiliated with 42 Miles Press, New Issues Poetry and Prose, and Wolfson Press. She previously received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose and as an Assistant Editor of Poetry for Third Coast. Her poems have appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, Thank You for Swallowing, Whale Road Review, The James Franco Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on her website and on The Rumpus. She lives with her husband, their daughter, and three cats. For more, visit www.mckenzielynntozan.com. View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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