Bird Creek, Alaska
14 August 2009
Vol. 9, No. 2
poetry
Spruce trees smell
wicked at night
we lie in lavender
twilight we think
we are so clever with our pale
bodies and sly-tongued minds
Tofu and Potatoes
11 August 2009
Vol. 9, No. 2
poetry, prose poem
It is evening and the dark climbs through the window, sits down beside us on the couch, demands the remote control. We curl our legs together, socks to socks, my hand pressed on your lower belly. "What if you suddenly stopped breathing," I say, imagining your death, the funeral, the useless black shoes. I smile, bury my nose in your dirty dark hair.