Each of my hair follicles gained sentience
after my left arm passed through
a cloud of chicken-factory effluvium.
I have sold my house to pay
for body waxing, and still,
every night, I wake to a chorus
of tiny, flesh-muffled “whys.”
Marc Pietrzykowski lives in Lockport, NY, and sees no reason to complain about it. He’s published poems and essays in deComp, Wisconsin Review, Burnside Review, Star*Line, DIAGRAM, Alaska Quarterly Review, and others. His book of poems ...and the whole time I was quite happy is available via Zeitgeist Press