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Miruna Fulgeanu


Test #61 

Do not worry, it is only the casual fear 

that makes me test our love in small, maritime ways; lately,

I have done this by picturing your kidney, locked 

in a jar, happy & numb like a potted plant. I have inquired

after my feelings for it, if I adore it 

in its isolation & if it adores 

me too. It’s really late capitalism, 

and all my lucid thoughts are medical. At 3am 

the skies are petrol, then there’s me dreaming of dissection games, crazy

for overly dramatic music, chutneys, 

plum compote! This is all that we are left 

with: old things, older bodies, 

reassembled. I’m just here doing the least, 

non-stop testing like the times 

when I picture my finger nudging 

your kidney tenderly, seeing if it will bob back 

to me in its liquid, 

my mouth turned St Petersburg blue with minor 

anticipation, O jellyfish, 

formaldehyde love.

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