Photo by: Erin Conroy
silver bridge, ached the
sky's blue arc; revises
revises again
mother laid blue quilts
in the garden

i took a revolver between
two hills
the rapping fist
drums the scent dying with a

and silk moths flame under
a screen, wiped clear and sealed
the lid; rose-veined bridge
pouring to the shore

in her skin's ledger
carried the plume's fruit; milkweed
diamond in glass creases, braille
sperm of her wrist
takes the knife
from abdomen earth
cuts ivory slowly and
precisely, the shade

and the tea room littered with
ink cursive, rag pressed over
a mouth
can't decide in cursive the
needle's boat painted red
with waterlines

to open windows of sun
reaches a silver cave, ink
spilled indigo cursive
down a wire

the revolver between two
hills, sat the wire lines
sat and watched
the sun revise her skin
face revised by empty sky

and the skin torn against her
teeth, resurrected
as silver veins eject their
and moths grow bitter
in shade's jaw, the cave
sealed off (a jeweler sewed)

gun's report heard echoing
her silk ash picking its
my hand in the river
beats the vandal to the

-- Eric Larsen

spank thru