view index

 
 

 

by Anna Gault

we thought they had left us
blues and shoes tied tightly
squelching those blooms
on the concrete from
the wind,  that bottle blowing noise

does the mouse really have armor against the fox?
we are opposites in flesh,
and I lose everything I own.
outlooks swaying by the moon phase
or less.

you have no idea, except those
blossoms we just smashed into
Wax

we talked to an undersea African about
chain-sawed, torched, gouged hands
and Daedalus and Icarus
it meant a lot

he had accrued library fines
Settled
by one of many girlfriends
who weren’t the professors
that he had slept with
In a way.

We didn’t think about him again,
and I couldn’t stay away from your hands

 

Site Map