Kristina Sheehan is an itinerant recluse, Vonnegut enthusiast, and aspiring wordplay artiste.
The thorns turn inward
By Kristina Sheehan
By Kristina Sheehan
on a ribbon of twilight you descend into the garden
armed with cadmium, mercury, and lead:
rotting citrus thickens the gray
you stumble down a ravine whose footholds have
disintegrated
the bitter wind whips your bitter lips
a plum wine
and your cedar-chip splintered
fingers
fashion a recalibrated scale
with which you douse the flames
of unbridled yearning
that sprout around the edges
of each withered brown
leaf.
