Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-six Winter 2014 |
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Song of Lure Annie Virginia i have heard there are mothers everywhere like needles who wear jewels in their skin so the bucks will spin into their chests will bow they have ringing ears i have often heard what is called gunshot and it turns me there is so much hush after the shot turns inside out and falls the way ash falls my father tells me fireworks rise like morning exist like dragonflies metalcolor and grind father is a pine under the feet of the river more mud to sheet the legs of she and she sleeps with sun in her throat gems in the water her neck lace mother is dripping river in hushsong and asks nothing of her hunger in the clovers who whine by the house and mother ties them to her fingers so i see celebration hanging in maple father says the river sounds like laughter but i see in my mother that she believes it sounds like crying i have often found both to be water and no one can step foot in the same river twice so everything is the same i understand this even sleeping |
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