Monday, July 11, 2011

TWO PIECES BY LAURA LEHEW

THE WILD WITHIN

he smelled like a troll

jammed fistfuls of earth into his mouth
vexed

he didn’t know where her other life was

refused it to her even before she was born
adrift

acclimated to candy canes salt water taffy

tampons she jammed print cartridges in her ears
besieged

exposition obedience baptism

the biology of accrual jammed into the sweet hereafter
burning



MECHANICAL AND HORTICULTURAL


ragweed, molding debris, fertilizer

early morning skunk
the syntax of things

splintered

edged into the churn—green-grey
clouds burst drowning out crickets

your shirt untucked

my hand on the buckle
there is no point mowing the Zoysia

one one thousand—two one thousand—three one thousand—four

the air electric, the probability of being struck, not stopping
—who are you without me


About Laura Lehew:
Laura LeHew loves zombie movies, Dexter, and Anne Carson [in a purely platonic-poetic way] she is hoping for a non-CGI comeback of Werewolves. She has one husband, seven cats, and never sleeps. She edits www.utteredchaos.org.

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