Poems from CH
I could not see myself
in the river as I washed
There was no image to sight,
only uncertain stains of faded umber
and earthly burnt...
Ripe and full of
seeds
the bloody fruit
fell open,
dripping red into our gaping mouths.
We screamed
in the fiery throes of anger
Mirrored
light reflecting-- heat magnifying,
greater than the combined pulse within
We burned...
Against,
Pressing lead
puncturing, scarring
traces remain
We’re far from the house now
and there are no more mailmen,
except perhaps the reaper himself.
The fire is dim
and we are cold.
The...