The River Wide
He closed the rusty coffee can lid
Then I’ll just get a bionic arm, he said-
His eyes darkening-
with guns and knives and a chainsaw to destroy everything!
The worm slithered between his stained fingers
Very Cherry Kool-Aid and mud from my garden
Ok. Then I’ll just get a bionic foot, I said–
My chest tightening–
with cannons that shoot flowers and glitter
and love.
He frowned
My guns will kill your stupid flowers.
The worm’s taut skin popped
its guts gushed out
He tilted the rod behind him
effortless under the sweltering sun
What about love? I ventured
You can’t kill love.
He cast a high elegant arc
You’re right, he said-
You can’t kill something that doesn’t exist.
Together we watched the tiny splash
The Seduction of Grief
his reflection glinted like a mermaid’s tail
in the corner of great Aunt Mabel’s attic
unaware of my gaze, he whistled
off-key and off-kilter
an eerie call to the deep
re-boxing her silk stockings and hats
he handled each with such care
though moth-eaten and frayed
rested them on the dust-laden vanity
I crept through the shadows
to have a closer look
at the cobwebs in his hair
Writing Love Poems in Pencil
Distrust of the muse
Revisionist history
I am not a mathematical
equation to be proved
or disproved
I will not
be documented
mechanically
Disappearing threads of truth
like rubber crumbs
in the margins
© Kari Ann Ebert
Kari Ann Ebert’s poetry has appeared in The Broadkill Review, cahoodaloodaling, and Gargoyle as well as the Devil’s Party Press anthology, Aurora. She was a 2016 Seashore Writers Retreat fellow, has a forthcoming collaborative project with the Delaware Humanities Forum, and recently won the Gigantic Sequins poetry contest. She lives in Delaware and has two grown children.
The Loch Raven Review 