You Continue to Ask
July, the month of smoke, the month
of long dry houses, burning.
How to make a bong with a knife
and a salt shaker, a knife and a shoelace,
a knife and a human hand.
You yelled once-- a long, dog-
like sound. Something yellow in my
peripheral vision. A bruise on your jaw,
a new white around the rims of your eyes.
Nyquil and orange juice, wine and five
Sudafed, we were chopping aspirin
into powder: what could we do
to the inside of our noses?
We used lighters covered with hearts
to melt my Breyer animals
into the shape of a boat:
the calves,
the tiny horsemen,
the stiff collies, bending slow
then quick to the flame
3 comments:
Christine,
this one is vivid and
powerful and
quite believable.
the title is hauntingly
disturbing.
a great piece
all around!
Thanks!
I happened upon your site and this poem immediately caught my eye. It's nice to read a poem without sparrows, fields, or bible quotes for a change. Well done!
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