Month: February 2016

Discount

I frame you like a museumed artifact, safe from thievery and me.

Dear broken bread.
Dear broken skull.
Dear Thanksgiving.

Darling Daughter

[T]ell them, dear child, of the female narrative not born
of temptation & sin but of the blood of your blood singing out.

Badlands / The Lakehouse

You’re tempted to find God in every abandoned landscape:
twist of black road snaking through dry grass, shroud
of white hotel cotton, blank heaven that cannot conjure
cloud.

Three Poems

Generations are contained
in her wrist bones, in whether she can
constrain the nature of the bird.

Bravado

It’s good to be incendiary, lit up,
Sparked heel to crown.

Two Poems by Sherine Gilmour

No crying in broad daylight on the street,
child warm and sweet in your arms.
There are no eyes in this poem. Not your eyes
judging your child. Not his eyes, not looking at you.

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