If you want to hear a joke
about how time passes
ask someone else.
I won't fool around
with history unless
in some scenario
I come out fighting.
I would like to say
how I once broke a man
but I would be lying.
Instead I floated
in my own blood,
became a ditch
for unweighable
violence. You are
no one to talk
about an anniversary.
Now I know how
to unbecome
a tweaking animal
for however many
innings it takes.


Again I eat until
I peel off into ribbons,
scatter myself all over
the neighborhood.
Let's play the game
where you hunt me
through the year
and I am never found.
This life is for rickety
commitments, stitches
up to our throats. I see
myself living beyond
analogies while you stay
ordinary. What I murmur
into the future will not
make me special but
what I make I can
easily kill. I remain
perpetually off cycle.
See, I am classically
trained to the bone.


Anne Cecelia Holmes is the author of a full-length poetry collection, The Jitters (horse less press, forthcoming July 2015), and the chapbooks Junk Parade (dancing girl press 2012) and I Am A Natural Wonder (co-authored with Lily Ladewig; Blue Hour Press 2011). Her poems can be found or are forthcoming in jubilat, Conduit, The Atlas Review, Denver Quarterly, New South, Sixth Finch, and other places. She is a co-editor of Jellyfish Magazine and lives in Western Massachusetts.