I Am a Spongiologist



I wrote a book called The Book of Disorder
I wrote a book called The Atlas of Tics
I’m famous in supraliminal circles
I wrote a book called The History of the Sponge
It has devolving syntax
I know a tree full of plastic bags
Some might call it a bare tree as if those plastic bags weren’t waving
I get a little ratty at the ends
People respect my syntax
I wrote a book called The Stalled Individual
You know the syntax is good because the thought just turns forever
As a reader you feel like a cat in a dryer on high
It may be medical
I have a kind of devolving problem
I wrote a book called The Loose Reconstructions
Brain filled in all my good blanks to keep up its strict narrative
I can’t trust which memory
If amoeba were the size of dogs
If I had a kind of amnesia where I only forget about what eggs were
Every time I see an egg it’s so mysterious
Even now knowing what an egg is technically I don’t get it
I wish I had a cloaca
I wish I had one streamlined hole
When I die I will put on the suit that turns me into mushrooms
When you shower with a sponge you’re rubbing yourself with a soft skeleton




Author Rennie Ament

Rennie Ament’s poetry has appeared in West Branch, Minnesota Review, Bat City Review, Sixth Finch and Colorado Review, among others. She is the runner-up for the 2019 Erskine J. Poetry Prize from Smartish Pace, winner of the 2018 Yellowwood Poetry Prize from Yalobusha Review, a finalist for the 2018 Anzaldúa Poetry Prize from Newfound, and a nominee for both the Pushcart Prize and Best New Poets. A recipient of fellowships from the Millay Colony, the Saltonstall Foundation, the New York State Summer Writers Institute and the Vermont Studio Center, she lives in Maine and online at www.rennieament.com


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