|Cover Art: Jessica Hayworth|
Sudasi J. Clement
The psychic says I suffer from hypochondria
because Black Death killed me last time.
The artist paints my portrait with roses on my eyelids
and an X above my heart. He says he can’t explain the
symbolism but will I sleep with him anyway?
The coffee pot says screw the meds: DRINK ME.
The yoga instructor simply says, “Child’s Pose”
and I begin to cry. Everywhere, sunflowers
nod their idiot heads in agreement.