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Jill Khoury

Until It Bleeds

I have a clone cry for me;

I tie soft fabric scraps

around my beloved goat

and taunt it ‘til it cries.

I cry virtually by point

and clicking. I take these pills to cry

but it doesn’t always work.

I imagine my face sliding off

and that is like crying. I stick

my nose deep in the throat

of the flower. I write love notes

to all my friends and sign them

with a listing cry. I feed them

to the garbage disposal.

Sometimes they need a little

push. I extend my index finger.

What’s going on. Nothing. Me

neither. I’m so glad. Scratching

the mole until it bleeds.


Jill Khoury is a multiply disabled poet. She edits Rogue Agent, a journal of embodied poetry and art. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous journals, including Copper Nickel, Bone Bouquet, Dream Pop, and CALYX. She has written two chapbooks—Borrowed Bodies (Pudding House) and Chance Operations (Paper Nautilus). Her debut full-length collection, Suites for the Modern Dancer, was released from Sundress Publications. Find out more at

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