Thursday, March 20, 2014

Missing Sarah Tonin

Emergency opening
through the side
of an aluminum can

into a forest
of wolves and

And between six
stars staring

I’m watching hundreds of words
come falling flailing
or pouring
or streaming

from and out
of your eyes.

Trying to induce
your seismic fever to

using plastic spoons
and lukewarm water

until the sky cries open
snowing millions of shards
of glass down –

small enough to breach
your grimacing fingertips

drinking spiders
‘til dawn.