Two Poems | by Amy Kotthaus

“They left behind them, to enjoy the corpses,
the dark coated one, the dark horny-beaked raven
and the dusky-coated one,
the eagle white from behind, to partake of carrion,
greedy war-hawk, and that gray animal
the wolf in the forest.” (Anglo Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 937)

 

Dead Languages

Passing epiphanies light when ossein fingers
close a vice, constrict the heart to desperate
half-beats and settle back on exhalation
to flood the mind with silence.
It’s a wonder people care to hear of anything
but ravens and wolves tearing men apart.
To be lucky enough to live forever
because you were devoured is a dead tongue.
We speak a language of evaporating words,
our myths floating up after them, because
you can’t tell stories with words that won’t stay.
Our hands shy from stretching cow skin, and
we don’t have the guts to burn our kin in public
anymore. Steel bites them in the back until
dry eyed strangers desecrate them with unnatural fire. Continue reading “Two Poems | by Amy Kotthaus”

Two Poems | by Emily Corwin

splint

oh you, you must live to be hush, my honeydew
—I have to have you, your ankle, your hormone, the
ladybirds twisting there against your scalp. I never want

to check my email ever again today. never want the copious
blood in my hole, I would hate to be left on the cool, white
stairs without any rosebuds from the bachelor. and today,

I purchased a very large box of strawberries, astonishing
and huge, and there was a dead baby sugar-ant in one of the
sepals. such tiny beings tend to sicken me, but now that I think Continue reading “Two Poems | by Emily Corwin”