Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can’t Handle Considering the 1 2 3 4 of her digits and the ziggurat of carpal bones: all columned cashews and peashells, pumice-stones and corner-moons, her hand should not be too hard to hold. In the morning, it passes me coffee, points out the Sunday funnies in the … Continue reading A poem by Rebecca Bird
Tag: Rebecca Bird
A poem by Rebecca Bird
Progression I from the bedroom, he sees a brigade of snow V through a streetlamp’s mottled brights, a cheap party moon that hangs in the streamers and calls it winter. Warm in a marriage bed, blankets clamouring like ancient choirs, he thinks of cinnamon drinks, white-capped cars, IV and not of the boy … Continue reading A poem by Rebecca Bird
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