Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Forty-one
Summer 2016
 
I’ve Drug That Red Sleigh
Jessie Janeshek

across latch and tendons
    our charcoal ghosts and pig intuition

as you worked the coins
    into false fate

a little girl flying   say it six times
    as you worked sacrifice
    into lithe hate.

We let hot might
    flood in short-sighted
    ivied toward winter.


                                   Once I was a son
                                   asleep in the stirrups
                                   letting the cats call me devil

                                   you loose and cream-slick
                                   in the deer blue.
                                   You wouldn’t leave me
                                   one crippled truth.

About Jessie Janeshek

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