Dodo Eraser

with love, public servant

i laughed by the copier in the center of the library
with the lanyard on my neck and his papers in my hands
it was the day before the holidays and i was sick of being

the tentpole of my own mistakes and needed
to be the bitch instead so i made this tremored man
press the buttons by himself, though that’s what i’m paid

to do already, stand behind and point for the man
in sweats with his backpack half-off, falling,
cascading in his own way, him another member of the human traffic

jam, me the GPS that knows you’ve turned wrong already
so when the machine misfed it was latently my fault
and with his papers in my hands he said he was giving

his brain to science and i laughed, quick and sure, whiffed
frisbee through the cadaver lab, and he said no, really, i’m giving it
away, said it with defeat, words adrift outside the mouth, the single

rowboat waving languidly, final scene at the kitchen table with the
doctor on the line, knowing that your body wasn’t yours
before it was, that you could be in space again if you’d like

to believe so, that if you’re this far suspended you might as well
let it all hang, and he said it wasn’t doing much for me anyway
and i laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed

sluff

another night alone and i didn’t see the rain crawl
but heard it plink in the rings under my eyes
and a new song played beneath my skin—
variations on a theme—clear transmissions
under sheets of static that i’d listen to on icy
roads some overcast lunch break and dream
of spinning out or crunching guardrails or
rear-ending someone’s lexus for the warmth
of their attention indirectly concentrated on me
even loosely shaped like rage it will be
something made with me in mind and i will
lower my face into the slick between broken
bumpers to huff at gnarled fumes—condensation filthy
on my cheeks but it is wet and it is dripping and
it will be good enough until the spring passes by

stephanie anderson (she/they) is a mass of split ends in baltimore, maryland. she’s the author of SOMEONE ELSE’S FEELINGS (Ghost City Press 2025) and more of her work can be found in the likes of Rejection Letters, Burial Magazine, BRUISER, and the Michigan City Review of Books. they’re @whoastanderson everywhere that matters, but they’d love you to sign their guestbook at whoastanderson.com.