Poetry

The limbs had the raw strength. 
They were learning 
to walk on the water. 
 
The silver axe 
will hack off the neck 
after the daunting recovery. 
 
In gestational surrogacy, 
you don’t want 
the incisors. 
 
To kill a wanderer, 
you need a howling─ 
wind, fledged. 
 
A shoebox contains 
the handprints of a skeleton 
and liquid eyes. 
 
The hunger has a blue 
desire. A savage bite 
will bring out the space.