398 Readings


Amass your weapons    you have    mismapped me    Sir.
I must ask that you now draw a bead on my heart.
I am armed & arrayed      I am bellicose     dreadnaught      
feme sole       I am formally fierce & feral & she
who was formerly penitent & contrite     

was me    but is not me     no not I    I am not quite    

that quiet nor pale nor lost little darling nor your wife    
Who wears her balaclava better
than the moon snail?  Kiss by kiss
she drills through shell and makes her meal—
She’s after the meat, though, not the pearl—
I’m here for the body and the girl
I used to be;     X marks the marksman
                                                                        & the maker of this game.

Posted 10/04/14
previously appeared in Black Warrior Review