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 shadow 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 calm 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 river my hand in the river beats the vandal to the statue- -- Eric Larsen

spank thru