0:00This is one poem only, no analysis, no noise, just a little space to listen. This April is right after. Pay attention to what this poem is doing, then try it yourself. Write your after poem at hashtag right after opio, or leave it in the comments on substack and Spotify. This poem is by E.E. Nisbit. Listen to the episode, then write your after poem. Then maybe it would mean something. If your sorry could unscream, vacuum spit-spread particles, suck up fucks, threats and bullshit, undrink, choke it back into the glass, take back your money. If your sorry could drag up drugs of saline from blotted paper, sculpt it back into a tear or two and roll them backwards up my face. If your sorry could unscarry my skin, build the sharpener back together, draw it together

1:04the wet ravines of skin like a zip, unlift the flap of scab, unopen the sealed shut mouth of a silvering scar, unlock the wounds. If my okay could uncrash those cars, fuse together splintered glass, pull spines back into alignment, unslipped discs, stitchback skin spread thin across tarmac, unblock the roads. By E.E. Nisbit, she is available for commissioned writing, and you can find her on Instagram at underscored.eva, underscored.n. Thank you for listening. Some travel best when they're shared. Pass this one along.