Thursday, April 17, 2014

npm: 04.17

for today's poem i used a ghostline from another Rachel McKibbens' writing exercise, which you can find here


04.17

her hands are vanished
round the head, hiding.
i know you, or don't i
a voice remarks all
strung syrup from ceiling,
both feet punch out the bottom
of brick shoes.
chain coils around her
wedding train restraint
perfect teeth
belly carved in,
apple core.

On knees she slides
to side of bed. Eats the sheet.
Cicadas circle the wrist she
gifts my hip. They sing the songs
that break my heart. The shards
rise to surface and she pulls them,
stained glass stacked in palm. Insects
wiggle from their wardrobe here.
And the light and the shards and the sickness
oh beauty
none known
with rotted beak she leans in
bleats
this is what we call forgiveness.

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