Here is one of my poems from the issue:
FLINTHEART, PLANCHETTE
Dirty dove, I loved you even
when you ate the heart
of a deer — sliver of dark
meat quivering on your tongue-tip, heart-
ache wrought from the tip
of your knife. The most tender flesh.
That which you taste
only just after it dies. Barely dead
it bled to death still beating
in your hands. Beheld:
the doe and her fawn, the black
hooves knocking the blue glass
of the ice, the thicket
lined with the fur
of a hare, the circle of chalk
where she stood just before
she fell. Arrowhead — heart-shaped
bird — feathers flared
at your tail — that which guides
you. One heart always seeking
a place to dive — always seeking
another with its same beat.
For a moment we moved
in the same breast —
tongue-tooth to tongue-heart —
heart mouth to mouth
with all our jagged red teeth.
Thanks, Susana!
3 comments:
wow, i LOVE this poem, michelle!
thanks! it is one of my favorites too.
is it okay for me to say that?
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