by Rikki Santer

Rikki Santer’s poetry has received many honors including five Pushcart and three Ohioana book award nominations as well as a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities. Her next, full-length collection, How to Board a Moving Ship, is forthcoming from Lily Poetry Review Books. Please contact her through her website: rikkisanter.com

For accessibility screen readers

The cashier will church you into the flavor of this place / maps to guide you through galleries of purple testaments, last stops in the vast design of things / It’s okay to rattle grocery money when there’s hermetically sealed jars of ghost heat, sour fog, incantatory rhythms, / under-the-bed cams / or dust-caked canteens with bullet holes for selfish mouths / signed copies of The Doppelgänger’s Guide for Arousing Am-I-Really-Who-I-Think-I-Am / or postcard recipes from The Cannibal’s Cookbook / It’s okay to max out the plastic when there’s a Roll-A-Top slot machine guaranteed to whisper your name all night / assorted lapel buttons like I Survived Psychic Sweatshops or My Fear Engine Needs an Oil Change / or wind-up toys that will howl in the wake of your scorched failures / So go ahead, rip off the cellophane and exit the building wearing your new PPE gear (with museum logos) for squirming through the next thick forest of tree thorns and brambles under a blood and smoke sky