Thursday, October 19, 2006

confluence

It won’t go away, she said, shirt tails dragging across her thighs. thatched dimension takes her breath away. she runs her pinkie finger over the abrasion, stimulating moisture. a ripple. paralyze. gargantuan rectangles, buttons. the star her hand makes when it spreads. off the table. leak. pickling salt. alum. caving her mouth in and scraping it dry. what about the debris, the excrescence, the carbuncle alive in the constellation? vacuum tight. she will always be reminded of him. radiance. bellicose snow, rapture.

3 comments:

brandijay said...

Hey Mackenzie, I sent you a big long response to your email right away, but I've found out that people aren't getting emails from that account... did you get my email? Just want to make sure. If you didn't, let me know and I'll re-send! Hope you're well! xoxo, b

Anonymous said...

hey, I was in Barnes & Noble the other day and I took a look through the Briar Cliff Review and I saw one of your poems in there! That was exciting--congratulations with that. Briar Cliff Review is based in Sioux City, just 1/2 hour away from me.
Best of luck with your dissertation. What a monumental task.

poetzie said...

thanks all. I'm plugging away, as we all are. The Briar Cliff is a truly beautiful publication! I was mondo impressed.