There is always a crowd against
my skin, aroused & armed
with a gray teeth glisten.
Blandness we fight to dress
and undress. Was it the man
or the muse that caught me
by the roots of my unwashed hair?
My God I will never I will
name my fears again & again. Snow
and stains that can’t be swallowed.
Why am I always so eager to lick
the throat of anger? Why aspire
to a treble of ghosts? Matchbox
triptych: a parrot with human
teeth, a man with a mouthful of blue
rubies, and a faceless child drinking
from a river running backwards.
Isn’t it all instruction? Sweetness
sleeps so close to viciousness.
I only want you, lover,
Caitlin Scarano is a poet in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee PhD creative writing program. Her recent poetry is forthcoming or can be found in Chattahoochee Review, Muzzle Magazine, Word Riot, and Five Quarterly. Her first chapbook, The White Dog Year, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press (2015).