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the sign on the bathroom door says OMEN

I laugh, but
die inside the first stall.
There’s no toilet paper
and a diamondback
falls into my lap like a shower
caddy prone to jump scare.
I’m waiting for the dregs
of my period to leak
black oil while women
prisoners fight fires
for $2 a day.

when I fossilize, I’m sure
I’ll be discovered as
a deviant burial.  ATATs
stand stiffly in the Oakland air.
My forked tongue tastes
smoke. A girl might have been
flirting with me. I look out
the BART window,
see a violet house
by the Dwan Elevator

My iPod keeps giving
me ideas on shuffle setting:
“This is the Last Time,”
“I Bet On Losing Dogs”





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Originally from Merced, California, AC Harmon lives in the East Bay near Berkeley. She attended St. Mary's College of California for her MFA, completing it in June of 2018. These poems appeared in her thesis, which was surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) pastoral and eco. Her poetry will be featured in a forthcoming issue of Inklette, and has been featured in Bay Area Generations #47.