I don’t know what shiplap is
and at this point I’m afraid to ask:
face full of smiles face of teeth face loving
kitchens of thousands of dollars I am
ten year old crooked molars:
House Hunters
my mother
her bed.
the room with the bed. the utility of space,
that one room that one bed that one mom
and nothing else. to curl around each other
as the walls curl around our bodies the
room is a cocoon and we are it.
in the TV glow the teeth assert distance
assert room assert beachfront property
new construction open space
open space
open space.
water takes the shape of its container.
bodies take the shape of each other,
my body shapes into survival’s yes,
shapes to fill and pile and stretch
into warm walls that loop back in
without trying to fit.
Fuck Your Open Concept
Gabrielle Martin is a poet living and working in West Philly. Originally from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, much of their formative years were spent shucking corn. They are the author of the chapbook Gritty City, recently published by Moonstone Press. Find them on Twitter @crabbygabie