Transmigration Vol. 5

A tree with an overripe lung. Her hair is infidelity’s troubadour—her hair has another 
face back at home. Can chaos’ language survive in the stone’s dense braille? We caught 
a star bleeding among the day’s catch, we mistook it for a diseased mollusk. Cheap soap 
paints a translucent film over last night’s unflinching Chiaroscuro, last night’s fluorescent 
cacophonies. That empty feeling you get from time lapsed sunrises. Vertebra. Asphyxia. 
You lap up thin washings, suds cling to elbows. Paper bags all wet with sweaty vegetables. 
Half soothing nightmare, half ingrown feather. From the open spine of a book starved maggots 
flush inbreeding. The mirror is constantly digesting the room’s walls. Embroidered the fail-safe 
bulwark of this crimped cowhide. Embroidered the faceless signature of deconstruction. Lost in 
a bed of eyelashes—constantly being born means born into drowning. Cogwheels of frost. 
The backyard Eucalyptus’ nipples raised in false patriotism.



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Joseph Mulholland’s work appears or is forthcoming in Anomalous Press, Heavy Feather Review, alice blue review, The Madison Review & others. He lives in San Juan & is a graduate student at the Universidad de Puerto Rico.