21 August 2009 | Vol. 9, No. 2
Shelter #1: Husk
We placed it on the ground between us.
After it fell again, we rebuilt it.
The wind keeps gusting it into the barbed
fence. Holes are torn roughly, not cleanly
punched. We have to keep this between us,
on the ground. The house takes the shape
of its occupants. Ours was hunched
in the limbs. Ours tipped out of the limbs,
startled by the crowings in the wintered
tops of trees. We've pressed against it
for so long, the spiral of a thumb, a hand
scratched into, stuffed into, the underside
of a bluff: You were not the first person
to think of this. You were not the first one here.
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About the author:
Carolyn Guinzio is the author of Quarry (Fall 2008, Free Verse Editions, Parlor Press), and West Pullman (Bordighera, 2005), winner of the Bordighera Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared in Cannibal, Colorado Review, New American Writing, Typo, and elsewhere. She has an MFA from Bard College and lives in Fayetteville, AR.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Carolyn Guinzio at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 9, No. 2, where "Shelter #1: Husk" ran on August 21, 2009. List other work with these same labels: poetry.
