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.


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