Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-five Spring 2011 |
Green Jonathan Lohr Green woods to take your own food and copper kettles to make your own beer We dressed for church every day Chew on your ear swallow your skin The martyrs try to touch each other because what else is there to do in the eternal? We stay here in the crypt with candles We breathe our dead, carry them with us like clouds. Carry cities through streets in leather bags Who’s tucked in, hiding under blankets? I swear to God you should venerate me look for your loved ones in my sacred lungs |
About Jonathan Lohr |