Your seven lemons in the bowl from Faro have grown small and hard. And asymmetric shadows are rising, walking the dry afternoon down the stairs. Without you, there is only a stream of toe scuff minutes, heel/note, heel/note, thin quavers through the eye of the radio. The red-haired dancer from the […]
PNAutumn2008
The Last Lady Ratcatcher
I was the last Lady Ratcatcher, bore the scar of two yellow incisors on my wedding finger. Each night I crept out, cage ready, my mind swift as a trap on a neck bone, my beauty legendary. I wore a cape of brown fur, a belt of silver rats running from buckle to […]