Photo by: Erin Conroy

psalm 9 1. and watching the wounds blossom from my palms, gripping the vase 2. the vase of milk and chipped rim; milk from a breast cries down 3. and air raid sirens; carried a shoebox to the fallout shelter 4. her ribbons were blue and buried in sea light strands 5. and red light shone, the hall bled from ancient Rome 6. and we sank together in the dark room; door heavily shut, steel firm 7. the air raid siren dampening her weather eyes, winter eyes, bird feather eyes 8. as her eyes swallowed a speck of light; jet engines ripped cuts into the atmosphere, the blue cloth spilling down hot embers 9. and mushrooms of wind and ash fed upwards; and mushrooms risen from the fertile soil 10. and we collected her blood in the basin; the mushroom higher, growing thick in forest leaves 11. and she would like to pluck its stem from the mud hillside and swallow it whole 12. blue ribboned hair glowing in the emergency light; her hand moist, her palm moist 13. mushrooms grey in her eyes; for a walk in the forest, a walk into the creek; mayflies filled her pillow... hard to sleep, hard to sleep 14. and a basket heavy with mushrooms; off to pick more, fingertips pluck the moist stems- -- Eric Larsen

spank thru