Sunday, June 8, 2014

Happy Trigger

- Carmen Giménez Smith
Off-season and in
the burnt forest
of my nightgown, a feral
undergrowth that marks
me as burial site—
to be still enough or
just enough.

My arms become fat arms:
hearth. I eat dirt for doubt,
a secret bleached
old as lie. I out-want
like a spindly
winged monster.
If I were a bug—
were I—then you'd hope
for reparation, and paint
more brown into the plot.

from: Milk & Filth. Copyright 2013.

No comments:

Post a Comment