Kristin Abraham
He Can't Be Homeless, He Trims His Beard
second place, 2005 poetry contest
And other similar stories. The title of his first book. Although the
question is why they would gift this volume for a first birthday.
So impressionable. The cover was soft and his fingerprints were forever
after. Tough like a horsefly. His mother’s peas in a jar. Dried
from the garden. Or mashed like spring, late fall like a housefly.
It’s not a fruit. Just like he’s not his mother’s
green. Not anymore. Said anymore aloud as he wrote it. Slowly around
the soft spring. Swamp mush. Read anticipation as an open mailbox.
Read red as White White. Having eaten warm from her mouth. Of breath
like cinders. He’s her orange rind, dancing with glass. When
the sleep broke, there was gourd slime. He’s her croaking ripe.
Trophy wife. She was tough stalk on a mattress. They planted her peas.
That’s when the stories came. Came to vine. She, staring at
the apple. Waiting for it to bite her.
Ethic
honorable mention, 2005 poetry contest
1: Art Project
First
they cut her
hair
Then they studied
her
long bones
[humerus,
metacarpals, femur, metatarsals]
They strained her
til
she was white [
]
sifted
yet
stained with blood
2: An Act of Contrition in Ten Scenes
They
were looking
for
the truth, but he
had
already confessed it
*
forgive
me Father
*
and
it was
curved
anyway
*
[pelvis,
clavicle, rib]
*
The
whisper was ten
*
[penance]
*
Hail
Mary’s, an
*
Our
Father, a
*
Hail
Holy Queen