Published in Harp & Altar

After sewing his heart
Into his throat

We swathed my son
In mosquito netting

And used the Renaults
To pull his body out

On the floe as skaters
Danced the starlight waltz

Around his corpse until
Their blades cut him free

To constellate
In the whirl of symptoms

last updated Tuesday, March 17, 2009 @ 5:04 PM