Kari Ann Ebert

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

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.

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