by Erin Armstrong
Light ladles don’t know night from full moon
drink and follow, listen to the whistle
in the distance some lantern let shine
let the bird call April in Alabama
Charade, charäde, Scheherazade
Stab a tadpole with pinestraw
right through the brain a hot pin
in the soft skull of a baby at rest
bury it beneath the sweet gum
the maple
the magnolia
the myrtle
Erin Armstrong is an MFA candidate at CU-Boulder. Her works have appeared in Haunted Waters Press and SmokeLong Quarterly and are upcoming in Banango Street.
