"I’d condense chaos into 14 lines if I could"

a collection by juliana tattoli

My professor said something about entropy.
Everything is continuing toward chaos, or
something to that extent. I’d condense chaos
into fourteen lines if I could. I think of how
often my mind feels of (pure) chaos. Is this
an explanation for entropy? I create space.
I only live my life & write about it. There is
nothing particularly scholarly happening here.
Things are emerging & apparently I am supposed to
(required to) pay attention. Is caring a requirement?
I am tired—too tired. I am thinking of reversal, that is
to say: Complications. My disinterest denotes a lack
of passion; or understanding; or sanctioning;
or recognition of importance or significance.

I file my nails nightly
into perfect squares—
keep them long—
like claws—
so they can scratch—

& so they can go
tap tap tap
tap tap tap
I tap tap tap
on the mahogany
japanned desk.

Flutter eyelashes,
mascaraed.

Arch back.

Claw at clumps
mascaraing
in morning.

I use these claws
to crawl.

Forest-mud-caked-claws,
crawling.
I howl at the moon.
I am howling at the moon.
I reach up a paw
to scratch at the moon.
I can’t reach.
I run.
I run.
I howl.
Howl

I’m an egg

Crack me open
& spill
yellow all
over the table

When you were
aiming
for the dish