Spring, Vol 17.2
Poem for my grandma
Liberate—
a statue / marble
melted
ivied-spine / scattered
layers upon layers
jointed waxed skin
smokeless den
She within her childhood
hid behind
woods
one rifle
laid on the ground
age loaded snow
but burnt
over wide / black sand / coraled dune
in a distant far from me
flow…
You may never stop asking so I will tell you We were hunted like prey and forced to sleep under trees with the snakes My father was adept with a spear, though there wasn’t enough game in the world to
For I.V. I. It was the future But I remember It was that time we held hands Fingers interlocked like a zipper or the mouth of a flytrap I once folded a map at an awkward angle I punched a hole that we
He never howls when he’s awake. When everything depends—has always depended on acting like nothing is wrong. —Kate Greenstreet, from “2 of Swords” Teeth brushed directly after a radish. The effect un