Issue 160, Winter 2001
not just the writhing days it took for detox.
& anyway by this time it was all a kind of joke:
on the third day she would rise again, transfigured,
to sign herself out. & with the plastic bracelet
still dot-matrixing her name, band inching white
from her black leather jacket, she spat out
curses at the liquor-store clerk, who'd told her that